BUFFALO  BILL  BORDER  STORIES  Mo. 4 2 ► 


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COL.PRENTISS  INGRAHAM 


Buffalo  Bill’s  Death  Call 


OR, 


ON  A RED  TRAIL 


BY 

Colonel  Prentiss  Ingraham 

Author  of  the  celebrated  “Buffalo  Bill”  stories  published  in  the 
Border  STORIES*  For  other  titles  see  catalogue. 


/ 


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STREET  A SMITH  CORPORATION 

PUBLISHERS 

79-89  Seventh  Avenue,  New  York 


Copyright,  1907 
By  STREET  & SMITH 

Buffalo  Bill’s  Death  Call 


(Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America! 

All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of  translation  into  foreign 
languages,  including  the  Scandinavian. 


IN  APPRECIATION  OF  WILLIAM  F.  GODY 

(BUFFALO  BILL). 


It  is.  now  some  generations  since  Josh  Billings,  Ned 
Buntline,  and  Colonel  Prentiss  Ingraham,  intimate  friends 
of  Colonel  William  F.  Cody,  used  to  forgather  in  the 
office  of  Francis  S.  Smith,  then  proprietor  of  the  New 
York  Weekly.  It  was  a dingy  little  office  on  Rose  Street, 
New  York,  but  the  breath  of  the  great  outdoors  stirred 
there  when  these  old-timers  got  together.  As  a result  of 
these  conversations,  Colonel  Ingraham  and  Ned  Bunt- 
line  began  to  write  of  the  adventures  of  Buffalo  Bill 
for  Street  & Smith. 

Colonel  Cody  was  born  in  Scott  County,  Iowa,  Feb- 
ruary 26,  1846.  Before  he  had  reached  his  teens,  his 
father,  Isaac  Cody,  with  his  mother  and  two  sisters, 
migrated  to  Kansas,  which  at  that  time  was  little  more 
than  a wilderness. 

When  the  elder  Cody  was  killed  shortly  afterward  in 
the  Kansas  “Border  War,”  young  Bill  assumed  the  diffi- 
cult role  of  family  breadwinner.  During  i860,  and  until 
the  outbreak  of  the  Civil  War,  Cody  lived  the  arduous 
life  of  a pony-express  rider.  Cody  volunteered  his  serv- 
ices as  government  scout  and  guide  and  served  through- 
out the  Civil  War  with  Generals  McNeil  and  A.  J. 
Smith.  He  was  a distinguished  member  of  the  Seventh 
Kansas  Cavalry. 

During  the  Civil  War,  while  riding  through  the  streets 
of  St.  Louis,  Cody  rescued  a frightened  schoolgirl  from 
a. band  of  annoyers.  In  true  romantic  style,  Cody  and 
Louisa  Federci,  the  girl,  were  married  March  6,  1866. 

In  1867  Cody  was  employed  to  furnish  a specified 
amount  of  buffalo  meat  to  the  construction  men  at  work 
on  the  Kansas  Pacific  Railroad.  It  was  in  this  period 
that  he  received  the  sobriquet  “Buffalo  Bill.” 

Ibl<  1868  and  for  four  years  thereafter  Colonel  Cody 

1 


served  as  sccmt  and  guide  in  campaigns  against  the  Sioux 
and  Cheyenne  Indians.  It  was  General  Sheridan  who 
conferred  on  Cody  the  honor  of  chief  of  scouts  of  the 
command. 

After  completing  a period  of  service  in  the  Nebraska 
legislature,  Cody  joined  the  Fifth  Cavalry  in  1876,  and 
was  again  appointed  chief  of  scouts. 

Colonel  Cody’s  fame  had  reached  the  East  long  be- 
fore, and  a great  many  New  Yorkers  went  out  to  see 
him  and  join  in  his  buffalo  hunts,  including  such  men 
as  August  Belmont,  James  Gordon  Bennett,  Anson 
Stager,  and  J.  G.  Heckscher.  In  entertaining  these 
visitors  at  Fort  McPherson,  Cody  was  accustomed  to 
arrange  wild-West  exhibitions.  In  return  his  friends 
invited  him  to  visit  New  York.  It  was  upon  seeing  his, 
first  play  in  the  metropolis  that  Cody  conceived  the  idea,  j 
of  going  into  the  show  business. 

Assisted  by  Ned  Buntline,  novelist,  and  Colonel  In- 
graham, he  started  his  “Wild  West”  show,  which  later 
developed  and  expanded  into  “A  Congress  of  the  Rough-* 
riders  of  the  World,”  first  presented  at  Omaha,  Ne^ 
braska.  In  time  it  became  a familiar  yearly  entertain-* 
ment  in  the  great  cities  of  this  country  and  Europe. 
Many  famous  personages  attended  the  performances,  and 
became  his  warm  friends,  including  Mr.  Gladstone,  the 
Marqu’s  of  Lome,  King  Edward,  Queen  Victoria,  and 
the  Prince  of  Wales,  now  King  of  England. 

At  the  outbreak  of  the  Sioux,  in  1890  and  1891, 
Colonel  Cody  served  at  the  head  of  the  Nebraska  Na- 
tional Guard.  In  1895  Cody  took  up  the  development 
of  Wyoming  Valley  by  introducing  irrigation.  Not  long 
^afterward  he  became  judge  advocate  general  of  the 
[Wyoming  National  Guard. 

Colonel  Cody  (Buffalo  Bill)  died  in  Denver,  Colorado, 
on  January  10,  1917.  His  legacy  to  a grateful  world  was 
a large  share  in  the  development  of  the  West,  and  a 
multitude  of  achievements  in  horsemanship,  marksman- 
ship, and  endurance  that  will  live  for  ages.  His  life 
will  continue  to  be  a leading  example  of  the  manliness, 
courage,  and  devotion  to  duty  that  belonged  to  a pic- 
turesque phase  of  American  life  now  passed,  like  the  great 
patriot  whose  career  it  typified,  into  the  Great  Beyond* 

2 


BUFFALO  BILL’S  DEATH  CALL 


CHAPTER  I. 

A KNIGHT  OF  THE  OVERLAND. 

“ Draw  rein!  Put  on  your  brakes,  or  I kill  you  and 
lariat  your  leaders !” 

■*  The  words  rang  out  viciously,  clear  and  threatening, 
from  the  lips  of  a horseman  who  had  just  darted  out  of 
the  shadow  of  a clump  of  timber  and  wheeled  along- 
side of  an  Overland  stage  as  it  was  going  at  a brisk 
pace  along  the  trail  running  through  what  is  now  the 
State  of  Nebraska. 

The  stage  was  drawn  by  six  handsome,  jet-black 
mules,  which,  at  the  cry  of  their  driver,  had  bounded 
forward  into  a run. 

It  was  this  that  had  caused  the  stem  command  and 
threat,  and  as  the  coach  swung  swiftly  along  the  knight 
of  the  Overland,  who  had  so  suddenly  appeared,  leveled 
a revolver  in  his  left  hand  at  the  driver,  while  in  his 


6 A Knight  of  the  Overland. 

right  he  whirled  a lariat,  as  though  about  to  throw  the 
noose  over  the  heads  of  the  leaders. 

For  an  instant  the  driver  hesitated,  as  though  not 
knowing  whether  to  obey  or  take  the  chances;  but,  as 
though  convinced  that  it  was  certain  death  to  him,  he 
said : 

“I’ll  draw  ’em  in,  pard,  an’  let  yer  hev  yer  leetle  pick- 
ings, fer  I know  yer.” 

As  he  spoke  he  began  to  draw  in  his  running  mules, 
and  gently  put  his  foot  on  the  brake,  which  rapidly 
checked  the  speed  of  his  team,  while  the  horseman 
rode  by  the  side  of  the  coach,  his  revolver  in  hand, 
ready  for  use. 

Looking  out  of  the  coach-window  were  two  faces, 

A 

one  that  of  a woman,  the  other  a man,  and  round,  fat, 
and  very  much  alarmed  was  the  latter. 

The  horseman  upon  whom  their  eyes  fell  was 
mounted  upon  an  animal  as  white  as  snow,  with  long 
mane  and  tail,  and  a gait  that  was  easy  and  graceful. 
The  rider  was  dressed  in  deep  black.  He  wore  top- 
boots,  and  a slouch-hat,  the  sable  brim  being  turned 
up  in  front  and  held  there  by  a strange  mask  that  con- 
cealed the  face  from  the  mouth  up,  but  allowed  the 


A Knight  of  the  Overland.  j 

latter  feature,  shaded  by  a long,  blond  mustache  and 
a resolute  chin,  to  be  revealed. 

The  mask  consisted  of  two  scarlet  wings,  so  ar- 
ranged as  to  cover  the  face,  and  with  holes  in  each, 
through  which  two  fiery  eyes  were  visible.  The  points 
of  the  wings  extended  as  high  as  the  crown  of  the  hat, 
the  whole  presenting  a most  singular  and  striking  ap- 
pearance. 

The  saddle,  bridle,  and  trappings  of  this  strangely 
masked  rider  were  of  a most  elegant  description,  while 
his  spurs  were  gold  wings  on  either  side  of  the  heel, 
with  the  sharp  rowel  in  the  points. 

His  revolvers  and  knife  were  also  gold-mounted, 
and  altogether  he  looked  like  some  masquerader  at  a 
bal  masque,  rather  than  a bold  knight  of  the  road, 
who  had  daringly  darted  out  of  his  covert  and  ordered 
the  driver  of  a stage-coach  of  the  Overland  trail,  bear- 
ing Uncle  Sam’s  mail,  to  halt. 

When  the  t’ river  had  brought  his  mules  to  a stand- 
still, he  said  sullenly : 

“Now,  Pard  Red  Angel,  speak  your  little  speech, 
and  be  quick  about  it,  fer  I’m  late.’’ 

“.You  have  a United  States  Army  messenger  inside 


8 A Knight  of  the  Overland. 

as  a passenger,”  was  the  assertion  rather  than  ques- 
tion. 

“You  is  off,  thar,  pard,  fer  I hes  not,”  answered  the 
driver. 

As  though  doubting  the  assertion,  the  horseman  rode 
up  to  the  door,  turned  the  latch,  and  threw  it  open. 
A glance  showed  him  that  only  two  persons  were  in- 
side— the  woman  and  the  fat-faced  man. 

“Don’t  harm  us,  good  man,”  whined  the  latter,  pale 
as  death. 

“It  is  not  my  intention  to  do  so,  sir ; but  you,  madam, 
I must  ask  to  accompany  me.” 

The  woman  started,  drooped  her  head,  and  said  in 
a low  tone,  hoarse  with  alarm : 

“Oh,  sir,  spare  me,  I implore  you!” 

“My  dear  madam,  you  plead  to  Captain  Hyena,  the 
chief  of  the  Red  Angels  of  the  Overland,  who  is  merci- 
less to  man  and  woman  alike.  You  must  go  with  me.” 

“Waal,  I declare,  ef  you  makes  war  on  a leddy  pas- 
senger I drives,  I’ll  make  it  so  hot  fer  you  an’  your 
gang,  Cap’n  Hyena,  as  folks  calls  yer,  thet  yer’ll  hev 
ter  emigrate  ter  new  diggin’s,  or  I lies  like  a tin- 
pedler.” 


A Knight  of  the  Overland.  9 

The  driver  spoke  earnestly,  but  the  knight  of  the 
road  only  laughed  lightly  in  response,  and  repeated  his 
words : 

“You  must  go  with  me,  madam.” 

“Here,  pard,  I hes  a leetle  bag  o’  dust  o’  my  own; 
thar’s  a bag  o’  letters  in  ther  boot,  an’  thet  old  man 
in  ther  hearse  looks  as  though  he  were  rich,  so  take 
what  dust  yer  kin  raise  and  git !” 

“The  woman  must  go!” 

“I’m  durned  ef  she  shall,  ef ” 

The  bold  fellow  had  dropped  his  hand  to  the  butt  of 
his  revolver,  when  there  came  a flash  and  report,  and 
the  driver  fell  back  dead.  The  crack  of  the  weapon 
started  the  mules,  and  they  bounded  away  at  full  speed, 
leaving  the  road-agent  seated  upon  his  horse  on  the 
trail,  as  though  momentarily  taken  aback  by  the  sud- 
denness of  what  occurred. 

But  he  was  not  one  to  be  caught  off  his  guard.  His 
hesitancy  for  the  moment  had  been  at  catching  sight  of 
a party  of  horsemen  far  down  the  trail,  and  coming  at 
a canter  across  the  prairie. 

“By  Heaven ! I will  not  be  foiled !”  he  cried  through 


IO  A Knight  of  the  Overland. 

his  set  teeth,  and  a word  to  his  horse  sent  him  flying 
away  in  pursuit  of  the  mules. 

With  nothing  to  fear  from  the  driver,  whose  coach 
had  really  turned  into  the  hearse  he  had  called  it,  in 
border  parlance,  the  knight  of  the  road  dashed  on  at 
a speed  that  soon  drew  him  even  with  the  coach, 
though  at  a little  distance  to  one  side,  as  though  he 
feared  a shot  from  the  male  passenger,  who  might 
pluck  up  courage  to  fire  at  him. 

With  his  revolvers  in  his  belt  and  his  lariat  whirling 
about  his  head,  the  road-agent  showed  his  plan  of  ac- 
tion to  check  the  flying  mules. 

Over  the  prairie  still  came  the  horsemen,  five  in 
number,  at  the  same  easy  canter,  as  though  they  had 
not  yet  discerned  that  the  team  was  running  away  with 
no  driver  on  the  box.  They  were  yet  some  distance 
away,  and  the  knight  of  the  Overland  was  calculating 
all  his  chances  for  success  and  failure. 

Having  reached  the  position  he  desired,  he  measured 
his  distance,  and  was  just  about  to  throw  the  lariat, 
when  a shot  came  from  the  stage-coach,  and  his  horse 
bounded  into  the  air. 

“Curse  you ! that  is  your  game,  is  it  ? I’ll  now  play 


A Knight  of  the  Overland.  SI 

mine!”  he  hissed,  as  he  glanced  over  his  shoulder  and 
saw  the  face  and  form  of  the  woman  in  the  stage- 
coach window,  a revolver  in  her  hand,  from  which 
she  had  just  sent  a bullet  after  him,  and  was  threaten- 
ing to  send  rrfore. 

As  he  spoke,  the  road-agent  sent  his  lariat  whirling 
forward;  the  noose  whizzed  through  the  air,  and  the 
coil  caught  over  the  head  of  one  of  the  leading  mules, 
while  the  well-trained  white  steed  threw  himself  back 
upon  his  haunches  to  meet  the  shock. 

Instantly  it  came — the  lariat  tightened  with  a loud 
twang,  and  the  shock  hurling  the  animal  in  the  snare 
heavily  to  the  ground,  he  dragged  his  mate  with  him. 
In  one  instant  mules,  stage-coach,  passengers,  and  the 
corpse  of  the  driver  were  piled  in  one  grand  wreck. 

Leaving  the  struggling  animals  to  extricate  them- 
selves as  best  they  could,  the  horseman  cast  the  end 
of  his  lariat  loose  from  his  saddle-horn,  and,  springing 
to  the  ground,  thrust  his  revolver  into  the  coach-win- 
dow, while  he  cried : 

“Come  out  of  that,  madam,  for  you  are  not  hurt.” 

No  answer  came,  and  tearing  open  the  shattered 


12  A Knight  of  the  Overland. 

door,  he  dragged  out  a form.  It  was  the  fat  passenger, 
who  cried  piteously : 

“Don’t  kill  me,  good  man!” 

“Coward ! out  of  the  way ! This  is  my  game ! Come, 
you  must  go  with  me.” 

His  hand  rested  heavily  upon  the  woman’s  shoulder, 
and  in  silence  she  stepped  out,  her  face  as  white  as 
death.  It  was  a strong  face,  too,  with  well-cut  fea- 
tures, and  a look  of  fearlessness  upon  it  that  seemed 
out  of  place  with  the  deadly  pallor  which  betokened 
fear. 

Several  of  the  mules  had  now  struggled  to  their  feet, 
but  were  in  a tangled  mass  of  harness.  This,  however, 
was  quickly  severed  by  a few  strokes  of  the  bowie- 
knife  of  the  road-agent,  and  one  of  the  animals,  being 
freed,  was  led  out  of  the  huddled,  struggling  mass. 
Then  came  the  stern  order: 

“Madam,  let  me  aid  you  to  mount  my  horse.” 

The  woman  made  no  reply,  but  sprang  lightly  into 
the  saddle,  and  seized  the  reins.  A determined  light 
glittered  in  her  eyes;  and  the  masked  robber  said: 

“Be  careful,  for  that  horse  is  trained  to  obey  his 


A Knight  of  the  Overland.  13 

master’s  fall.  Now,  I will  be  ready  as  soon  as  I get 
your  baggage.” 

“I  have  no  baggage,”  said  the  woman  quickly  and 
nervously. 

"Only'  this,”  and  the  masked  man  drew  a satchel  out 
of  the  wrecked  coach. 

"That  belongs  to  that  gentleman,”  the  woman  cried 
hoarsely,  her  voice  trembling  as  she  spoke. 

"Yes,  that  is  mine,  sir,  and  I beg  you  not  to  rob  me. 
good  man,”  cried  the  fat  passenger,  his  face  flushing 
and  paling  by  turns. 

"I  am  sorry  I cannot  oblige  you,  sir,  for  I shall  have 
to  take  this  satchel ; but  I leave  you  the  mules,  what  is 
left  of  the  old  hearse,  and  the  body  of  your  driver. 
Good  afternoon,  sir,  and  tell  those  gentlemen,  who  are 
now  spurring  forward  at  such  a furious  rate,  when  they 
arrive,  that  this  is  some  of  Captain  Hyena’s  work,  and 
if  they  wish  to  find  me,  my  home  is  upon  the  prairies.” 

Springing  astride  of  the  still  trembling  mule,  the 
road-agent  started  off  at  a rapid  pace,  a word  to  his 
white  horse  causing  him  to  follow,  with  the  captive 
upon  his  back. 


14 


A Knight  of  the  Overland. 


Hardly  had  he  been  gone  two  minutes,  when  up 
dashed  the  five  horsemen  and  drew  rein. 

An  instant  they  stayed  there;  then  three  of  their 
number  pressed  on  in  hot  pursuit  of  the  daring  brigand, 
who  had  robbed  an  Overland  stage  in  full  sight  of  five 
United  States  cavalrymen ! 

Those  that  remained  by  the  wreck  stood  gazing  after 
their  comrades  and  the  reckless  fugitive  and  his  cap- 
tive, and  praying  that  at  last  the  Red  Angel  chief,  who 
had  long  defied  his  foes,  would  be  run  to  earth  and 
have  to  answer  for  his  crimes. 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE  LIFE-CHASE. 

The  scene  where  the  hold-up  had  occurred  was  upon 
the  open  prairie. 

Following  the  trail  on  ahead  with  the  eye,  it  wound 
over  rolling  plains,  with  here  and  there  a divide,  a 
clump  of  timber,  and  a fringe  of  cottonwoods  or  wil- 
lows on  the  bank  of  some  small  stream. 

Looking  in  the  opposite  direction,  the  thicket  which 
had  concealed  the  knight  of  the  road  until  the  stage- 
coach dashed  by  was  visible,  a mile,  perhaps,  from  the 
scene  of  the  wreck. 

Then  there  was  a rolling  plain  for  a mile  or  so,  and 
beyond  a view  of  hills  and  forests.  It  was  toward  the 
latter  that  the  horseman  and  his  captive  were  tending, 
for  he  made  no  halt  at  the  little  bit  of  timber  where 
he  had  lain  in  ambush  waiting  for  the  stage. 

The  woman  rode  by  his  side  in  silence,  her  face 
bent  downward,  as  though  she  was  lost  in  painful 
reverie.  She,  however,  sat  the  horse  well,  in  spite' 


i6 


The  Life-chase. 


of  riding  on  a man’s  saddle,  and,  apparently  resigned 
to  her  fate,  allowed  the  animal  to  run  on  at  will. 

Once  or  twice  she  cast  furtive  glances  at  her  kid- 
naper, as  she  saw  him  turn  and  glance  back  at  their 
pursuers,  and  then  there  was  a look  of  mingled  hatred, 
fear,  and  anger  in  the  look. 

The  mule,  stripped  of  his  harness,  and  with  only  his 
blind-bridle  on,  ran  with  the  speed  and  ease  of  the 
handsome  white,  and  seemed  both  willing  and  anxious 
to  go. 

Mounted  upon  his  bare  back,  the  masked  robber  ap- 
peared as  much  at  home  as  he  had  been  in  the  saddle, 
and  kept  the  pace  not  too  fast,  not  caring,  seemingly, 
to  push  the  animals  to  their  best  speed. 

Those  who  were  in  chase  were  an  army  lieutenant 
and  two  soldiers,  and  they  were  splendidly  mounted, 
and  pushing  their  horses  at  a pace  which  gained  on 
those  they  pursued.  The  officer  was  a young,  hand- 
some man,  with  the  air  of  a dashing  cavalryman,  and 
his  face  was  set  with  a resolve  to  capture  the  noted 
Red  Angel  chief. 

He  had  seen  the  stage  coming  rapidly  toward  him, 
and  the  horseman  by  its  side,  but  had  not  at  once  sus- 


i 


The  I/if e-chase.  17 

pected  trouble.  At  last,  however,  he  saw  the  white 
puff  of  smoke  coming  from  the  revolver  fired  by  the 
iwoman,  and  instantly  it  dawned  upon  him  that,  though 
the  coach  was  coming  directly  toward  him  and  his 
men,  the  horseman  riding  by  it  was  a road-agent. 

At  the  same  time  he  observed  that  the  driver  lay  back 
motionless  upon  his  box. 

“Ho ! men,  there  is  mischief  there ! Follow  me !” 

His  rjnging  words  were  responded  to  with  a cheer, 
and  the  party  dashed  forward  at  full  speed. 

But  they  had  not  more  than  started  when  they  saw 
the  smash-up,  as  one  of  the  leaders  was  thrown  by 
the  lariat,  and  deep  into  the  flanks  of  their  horses  they 
drove  their  spurs. 

But  the  daring  knight  of  the  road  was  too  quick 
for  them*  and  when  they  drew  rein  by  the  wreck,  the 
robber  and  his  victim  had  escaped. 

“Well,  sir,  what  means  this?”  cried  the  lieutenant 
when  he  came  near. 

“We  have  been  robbed,  sir,  robbed,  and  a most 
charming  lady  kidnaped,  while  our  poor  driver  was 
killed,  sir,  killed,  and  all  by  one  man,  one  man,  sir!” 
almost  shouted  the  fleshy  gentleman,  who  was  strug- 


1 8 The  Life-chase. 

gling  between  fright  at  his  danger  and  delight  at 
his  escape. 

“And  who  was  this  one  man,  sir  ?” 

“The  driver  called  him  Captain  Hyena,  the  Red 
Angel,  sir;  but  to  me  he  seemed  more  like  a black 
devil.” 

“Ha ! then  we  are  in  the  chase  of  good  game,  men. 
[You  say  he  kidnaped  a lady?” 

“Yes,  sir;  a most  charming  lady,  who  told  me  her 
satchel  was  full  of  riches,  and  begged  me  to  claim  it 
as  my  own.  And  I,  sir,  I threatened  and ” 

“I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  are  not  hurt,  sir,  so  shall 
leave  men  to  look  after  you  and  the  stage,”  broke  in 
the  lieutenant,  and  turning  to  two  of  his  men,  he  con- 
tinued : 

“Bolton,  as  you  and  Reid  are  not  as  well  mounted 
as  the  rest  of  us,  remain  and  repair  damages  as  well 
as  you  can,  and  carry  the  coach  on  to  the  station. 
Then  return  to  the  fort  and  report  what  has  occurred, 
and  say  to  Major  Benteen  that  I have  gone  in  chase 
of  this  famous  knight  of  the  road.” 

The  soldiers  addressed  saluted,  and  the  lieutenant, 
with  his  other  two  men,  dashed  off  in  hot  ch"  " 


The  Life-chase. 


19 

After  passing  the  timber  and  seeing  that  it  was  Cap- 
tain Hyena’s  intention  to  make  for  the  hills,  the  officer 
spared  not  his  horses  in  his  endeavor  to  catch  up  with 
the  bold  robber,  for  he  knew  that  the  Red  Angel  chief 
was  reported  to  have  a band  of  half  a hundred  lawless 
followers,  and  why  he  had  alone  made  the  daring  at- 
tack on  the  coach  he  could  not  understand.  He  felt 
assured  he  must  have  aid  not  many  miles  away. 

“We  must  catch  him  before  he  reaches  the  hills, 
men!”  cried  the  officer,  and  the  determined  manner  in 
which  they  urged  their  horses  on  began  to  tell,  for  the 
outlaw  was  forced  to  put  his  mule  at  his  best. 

Yet  the  troopers  gained,  for  though  the  mule  was 
fleet,  those  horses  on  his  trail  were  fleeter. 

“We  are  gaining  rapidly,  and  he  must  soon  come  to 
bay,”  cried  the  young  officer,  with  glee,  as  he  saw 
that  ten  minutes  more  would  bring  him  alongside  of 
the  outlaw. 

But  Captain  Hyena*  did  not  look  behind  him  with  any 
great  anxiety,  it  seemed,  nor  any  more  frequently,  as 
his  danger  increased,  for  the  soldiers  watched  his  every 
movement  closely. 

Be*-  him,  yet  some  distance  off  Tay  the  hills. 


30  The  Life-chase. 

Could  he  reach  them,  he  would  be  safe,  for  he  could 
soon  find  a breastwork  to  fight  behind,  if  he  did  not 
find  friends  there. 

Upon  the  open  prairie,  if  brought  to  bay,  he  must 
stand  and  face  his  foes,  three  to  one,  with  the  woman, 
also,  to  look  after. 

That  the  young  lieutenant  would  be  driven  off,  the 
outlaw  could  hardly  believe,  for  he  knew  of  what  ma- 
terial the  officers  on  that  far  border  were  made,  and 
that  the  men  would  follow  his  lead  was  most  certain. 

So  on  he  urged  the  black  mule,  striving  to  get  as 
near  as  possible,  it  seemed  to  his  pursuers,  to  the  hills 
before  he  would  turn  at  bay. 

But  nearer  and  nearer  came  the  cavalrymen,  and  a 
look  behind  him  showed  Captain  Hyena  that  the  lieu- 
tenant had  drawn  his  revolver  and  would  soon  use  it. 

Instantly  the  bold  bandit  acted,  and  with  a nerve 
and  promptness  that  showed  him  a master  of  the  situ- 
ation. 

“Slide  to  a seat  back  of  that  saddle,  and  if  you  slide 
off,  I will  kill  you !’’  he  said. 

The  words  were  addressed  to  the  woman,  and  that 


The  Life-chase, 


21 


he  meant  what  he  said  she  fully  realized,  so  instantly 
obeyed.  Then  came  the  order: 

“Throw  away  that  revolver  you  carry,  madam !” 

He  saw  the  gleam  in  her  eyes,  and  detected  her  pur- 
pose, for  he  quickly  drew  his  pistol  and  covered  her. 

The  woman  dropped  the  revolver  in  silence,  and, 
riding  closer,  the  outlaw  threw  himself  from  the  mule’s 
back  to  his  saddle  on  the  white  horse,  with  a skill  that 
would  have  done  credit  to  a circus-rider. 

But,  just  as  he  made  the  spring,  there  came  the 
crack  of  a revolver,  and  the  black  mule  plunged  for- 
ward with  a wild  snort,  and  fell  heavily,  the  bullet  hav- 
ing buried  itself  in  his  brain. 

“That  officer  is  a dead-shot,  for  his  bullet  would 
have  killed  me  had  it  been  fired  an  instant  sooner ; but 
with  you  as  a shield,  I have  no  fear  now,  madam,”  and 
the  outlaw  actually  laughed. 

The  woman  made  no  reply,  and  the  white  horse,  with 
his  double  load,  at  the  urging  of  his  master,  nowi 
bounded  forward  with  an  increased  speed  which  be- 
gan to  drop  the  pursuers,  who  were  almost  upon  him 
when  the  change  was  made. 

“If  I only  dared,”  muttered  the  officer,  a9  he  held 


22 


The  Life-chase. 


his  revolver  ready,  as  though  about  to  fire.  “No,  I 
must  not  risk  it,  for  I might  hit  the  woman,  and  if  I 
dropped  the  horse,  the  fall  would  doubtless  break  her 
neck.” 

He  returned  his  pistol  to  his  belt,  and  once  more 
urged  his  tired  horse  in  pursuit,  with  the  words : 

“Spur  deep,  men,  for  that  noble  horse  cannot  stand 
that  double  weight  long,  and  will  soon  break  his  heart 
under  it.” 

Contrary  to  the  expectations  of  the  lieutenant,  how- 
ever, the  splendid  white  horse  of  the  Red  Angel  chief 
did  not  break  his  heart  under  the  terrible  strain  put 
upon  him,  but  continued  to  gain  steadily  upon  his  pur- 
suers, until  he  dashed  into  a ravine  in  the  foot-hills, 
quite  a long  distance  ahead  of  them. 

The  outlaw  had  headed  for  this  particular  point, 
seemingly  well  acquainted  with  the  locality,  and,  once 
in  the  mouth  of  the  ravine,  he  had  come  to  a .halt  and 
quickly  dismounted,  as  though  determined  there  to 
stand  at  bay,  rather  than  push  his  horse  up  the  hill 
under  double  weight. 

On  each  side  of  the  ravine,  for  a long  distance,  ran 
a cliff,  which  was  unbroken,  and  the  nature  of  the 


The  Life-chase. 


23 

ground  in  the  rear  was  such  that  the  man  at  bay  could 
not  be  easily  flanked,  while,  as  darkness  would  come 
within  an  hour,  and  knowing  the  country,  he  could 
readily  extricate  himself  from  the  trap  in  which  he 
found  himself. 

“Now,  madam,  I expect  you  to  aid  me  in  the  little 
difficulty  I have  gotten  into  on  your  account,”  said  the 
outlaw,  as  he  led  his  horse  back  out  of  danger.  “Stand 
there,  please!” 

The  woman  obeyed,  taking  a stand  against  a bank 
that  arose  to  her  waist. 

“Now,  I will  take  my  place  just  behind  you,  and  I 
hope  it  won’t  make  you  nervous  to  have  me  fire  over 
your  shoulders,  for  I shall  do  so  if  attacked,  and  that 
foolhardy  young  officer  seems  determined  to  run  to 
his  death.” 

“You  would  not  kill  him  said  the  woman,  in  a 
low  voice. 

“As  readily  as  I would  you  if  my  life  depended 
upon  it,”  was  the  response,  and  then,  with  a revolver 
in  each  hand,  the  bandit  stood  at  bay,  the  woman  di- 
rectly in  front  of  him. 


24  The  Life-chase. 

Seeing  the  position  of  affairs,  the  lieutenant  made 
up  his  mind  to  dash  into  the  ravine  and  have  it  out  iis 
a hand-to-hand  fight. 

“Come,  men,  we  must  settle  this  thing  right  here!”1 
cried  the  gallant  officer,  and  he  rode  at  a headlong 
pace  directly  for  the  mouth  of  the  ravine. 

“Back,  sir,  back!  for  he  will  kill  you!”  cried  the 
woman,  her  voice  vibrating  with  emotion. 

But  the  soldier  made  no  reply,  and  then  came  the 
crack  of  the  outlaw’s  revolver. 

Down,  headlong,  went  the  horse  ridden  by  the  lieu- 
tenant, who  tried  to  save  himself  from  a heavy  fall,  but 
was  unable  to  do  so.  He  was  hurled  to  the  ground 
with  stunning  force,  and  pinned  there  by  the  weight 
of  his  dead  steed. 

As  though  knowing  the  result  of  his  shot,  the  out- 
law fired  again,  this  time  at  the  nearest  soldier,  and  the 
man  threw  up  his  arms  and  fell  backward  from  his 
saddle,  dropping  in  a limp  heap,  while  his  horse  dashed 
on  into  the  ravine. 

Seeing  that  his  officer  and  soldier  comrade  were  both 
down,  the  remaining  cavalryman  wheeled  as  though  on 
a pivot,  and  darted  away  from  the  fatal  spot  at  full 


The  Life-chase.  *5 

speed,  to  save  himself  from  a like  fate,  a shot  or  two 
from  the  outlaw  following  him. 

“They  will  trouble  us  no  more,  madam,”  the  road- 
agent  said  quietly,  and  taking  the  arm  of  the  woman, 
he  led  her  back  into  the  canon  to  where  the  white 
horse  was  standing,  and  by  his  side — for  he  had  sped 
right  on  into  the  ravine — was  the  animal  of  the  slain 
soldier. 

“We  are  both  mounted  again,  you  see,  madam. 
Please  take  my  horse,”  said  the  outlaw,  with  sarcasm, 
as  he  caught  the  rein  of  the  other  steed. 

“Will  you  ride  off  and  leave  that  officer  to  die?”  she 
asked. 

“I  will;  so  be  good  enough  to  mount,  and  lose  no 
time,”  was  the  warning  rejoinder. 

The  woman  leaped  lightly  to  her  seat  in  the  saddle, 
for  the  outlaw  offered  her  no  aid,  and  springing  upon 
the  back  of  the  horse  he  held,  he  said: 

“You  lead  the  way.” 

“Where?” 

“Out  of  the  canon,  and  up  into  the  hills.” 

She  seized  the  reins  and  obeyed,  glancing  earnestly 


36 


The  Life-chase. 


down  upon  the  dead  soldier  and  at  the  officer,  who 
was  moving-  his  hand  across  his  brow,  as  though  stri- 
ving to  recall  his  senses. 

He  lay  upon  one  side,  his  left  leg  pinned  down 
under  the  body  of  the  horse,  and  evidently  had  fallen 
heavily. 

“He  can  do  you  no  harm  now,  so  at  least  release 
him  from  his  painful  position,”  urged  the  woman. 

“I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  madam.  He  is  my 
foe;  he  sought  my  life,  and  he  may  die  there,  or  be- 
come food  for  the  wolves,  for  all  I care.  That  is  our 
way,  up  that  trail.” 

She  turned  her  horse  into  the  trail  he  pointed  to>  and) 
he  followed  her  on  up  the  hill. 

After  riding  a mile,  the  nature  of  the  ground  be- 
came wild  and  rough  in  the  extreme,  and  they  had  to 
pick  their  way. 

Suddenly  the  outlaw,  whose  eyes  were  constantly 
watching  on  all  sides,  spurred  to  the  side  of  the  woman, 
and,  seizing  the  rein,  said  hoarsely: 

“Quick ! Come  with  me !” 

She  wondered  at  his  excited  manner,  and  glanced 
r~  ' 


Tlie  Life-chase. 


27 

about  her  for  a cause  for  it ; but  he  urged  both  horses 
into  a fissure  in  the  hillside  which  -was  partly  con- 
cealed by  a few  stunted  trees.  A curse  escaped  his  lips 
as  he  saw  that  the  ravine  abruptly  terminated  within 
a few  feet,  and  did  not  extend  into  a canon,  penetrating 
far  into  the  hill,  as  he  had  hoped. 

“By  Heaven!  I must  take  the  chances,  for  to  go 
out  again  would  be  to  have  them  see  me,  if  they  have 
not  already  done  so,”  said  the  man  aloud. 

“Who?”  asked  the  woman,  her  face  flushing  with 
hope. 

“Wait  and  see,”  was  the  curt  answer,  and  then  a 
moment  after  came  the  almost  joyous  cry  from  the 
road-agent : 

“Saved ! for  now  my  trail  will  be  destroyed !” 

Then  there  came  a hurried,  tramping  sound,  and  a 
band  of  elk  sped  by  the  mouth  of  the  ravine,  and  within 
a few  paces  of  where  the  outlaw  and  his  victim  sat  side 
by  side  upon  their  horses,  illy  concealed  by  a few 
stunted  trees  that  grew  at  the  ravine’s  entrance. 

The  hoofs  of  the  elks  did  indeed  destroy  any  trace 
left  by  the  horses,  for  there  was  a large  b ”- of  them. 


28 


The  Life-chase. 

and  a cloud  of  dust  floated  into  the  hiding-place  of 
the  outlaw,  temporarily  concealing  it  from  view. 

The  woman  had  held  high  hope  when  she  heard 
those  trampling  hoofs  that  aid  was  near ; but  when  she 
saw  what  made  the  sound,  her  face  again  paled,  and 
she  wondered  at  the  excitement  shown  by  her  captor. 

But  he  still  remained  in  hiding,  a revolver  in  each 
hand,  and  she  felt  that  he  knew  other  cause  for  danger 
was  near,  and  had  not  been  frightened  by  a band  of 
elk. 

Several  moments  went  by  in  breathless  suspense  to 
the  woman,  and  to  the  road-agent,  as  well,  it  seemed, 
for  he  appeared  ill  at  ease,  and  then  the  sound  of  hoofs 
was  heard,  followed  by  a man’s  laugh. 

Then  the  outlaw  said  in  a low,  savage  tone: 

“Oh,  how  I would  like  to  turn  that  laugh  into  a wail 
of  woe!  But  I’ll  bide  my  time!” 

Turning  to  the  woman,  he  continued  in  the  same 
suppressed  voice : 

“Woman,  one  word,  one  act  from  you  now  will  seal 
your  doom,  whatever  my  fate  may  be,  for  those  com- 
ing are  Buffalo  Bill  and  two  friends,  and  they  are  my 
bitterest  foes!” 


r 


- 

The  Life-chase.  29 

As  he  spoke  he  pressed  his  revolver  hard  against  the 
head  of  his  prisoner,  who  sat  white  and  motionless 
upon  her  horse.  The  next  instant  there  appeared  in 
sight  a horseman  of  striking  appearance. 

He  was  mounted  upon  what  is  known  as  a buckskin, 
or  “clay-bank,”  horse,  with  snowy  mane  and  tail;  he 
was  oven  a.more  beautiful  animal  than  the  white  horse 
of  the  border  bandit.  His  rider  was  easy  and  grace- 
ful, and  he  rode  with  the  air  of  one  born  in  the  saddle. 
He  was  Buffalo  Bill,  the  King  of  Scouts. 

Just  behind  was  a horseman,  also  splendidly  mounted 
and  thoroughly  armed.  He  was  dressed  in  buckskin 
hunting-shirt  and  leggings,  wore  a sombrero  of  gray 
felt,  and  cavalry  boots. 

His  form  was  slender,  but  tall  and.full  of  power,  and 
his  face  was  stamped  with  strength  of  character.  His 
hair  was  jet-black,  without  the  shadow  of  a wave  in  it, 
and  hung  down  his  back  almost  to  his  belt,  and  he 
rode  with  the  bold  freedom  and  ease  of  a Comanche. 

Close  upon  the  heels  of  the  second  horseman  came 
the  third — a younger  man  than  the  other  two,  pos- 
sessing smaller  stature,  but  one  that  combined  strength 


The  Life-chase. 


30 

and  activity,  while  his  movements  were  as  graceful  as  a 
woman’s. 

His  face  was  also,  dark-hued,  but  a sunny  expression 
rested  thereon  that  never  deserted  it  even  in  danger, 
and  yet  which  could  turn  to  a shadow  of  deepest  sym- 
pathy for  one  in  sorrow.  His  hair  was  the  same  sable 
hue  as  was  his  comrades,  but  his  eyes  were  as  blue  as 
a turquoise — large,  full  of  expression,  in  which  lurked 
a glimmer  of  mischief  and  a trace  of  recklessness. 

He  was  dressed  also  in  buckskin,  top-boots,  and  a 
sombrero,  and  “armed  to  the  teeth,”  while  he  bestrode 
a restive,  wiry  roan  stallion,  that  had  every  indica- 
tion of  speed  and  great  endurance. 

It  was  a most  critical  moment  for  the  knight  of  the 
road  and  his  victim,  for  those  three  horsemen  were 
“men  to  the  border  born,”  and  might  cast  their  eyes 
at  any  instant  into  the  ravine.  In  fact,  nothing  would 
be  more  natural  than  for  them  to  do  so,  ever  watchful 
as  they  were  for  danger  in  their  path. 

The  game  behind  their  saddles  proved  that  they  had 
been  off  on  a hunt,  and,  although  the  band  of  elk, 
startled  by  their  coming,  had  run  near  them  in  their 
flight  down  the  hill,  they  had  not  fired  upo--  them  in 


The  Life-chase. 


31 

sheer  wantonness  to  kill,  for  they  had  an  ample  supply 
of  meat  with  them. 

Most  fortunate  was  it  for  the  outlaw  that  the  elk  had 
dashed  over  his  trail,  or  assuredly  the  eyes,  of  that  hun- 
ter trio  would  have  detected  them.  But  now  they 
seemed  unsuspicious  of  danger  or  mischief  brewing, 
and  were  chatting  pleasantly,  for  when  in  front  of  the 
outlaw’s  hiding-place  the  laughter  of  the  rearmost 
horseman  again  broke  forth  at  some  remark  of  the 
one  next  to  him. 

In  that  breathless  moment  of  suspense  to  the  outlaw 
and  woman — of  fear  with  one  and  hope  with  the  other 
— the  two  sat  motionless,  as  did  also  their  horses. 

A neigh,  the  stamp  of  a hoof,  would  betray  theirt 
hiding-place,  and  then  all  would  be  lost  for  the  man, 
all  would  be  gained  for  the  woman. 

And  there  they  sat,  the  outlaw  with  one  revolver 
ready  to  fire  upon  his  foes,  the  other  pressed  hard 
against  the  woman’s  head,  to  awe  her  from  movement 
or  outcry. 

Another  second  and  the  three  horsemen  would  be 
out  of  sight,  when,  suddenly,  came  in  startled  tones, 
deep  and  strangely  silver-voiced  : 


38  The  Life-chase. 

“Ho,  boys!  Look!  There  is  deviltry  going1  on 
Hown  yonder!” 

At  these  words  the  three  horsemen  drew  rein,  the 
last  one  being  still  in  full  view  of  the  Red  Angel  and 
his  victim. 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE  RED  ANGELS'  PARADISE. 

The  moment  that  the  three  horsemen  sat  on  their 
horses  in  front  of  the  ravine,  gazing  upon  the  prairie 
below  themi,  was  one  full  of  peril  to  other  than  the 
knight  of  the  road,  for  his  revolver  covered  the  breast 
of  the  last  of  the  trio,  and  had  they  turned,  as  though 
to  retrace  their  way,  he,  at  least,  would  have  fallen, 
however  quickly  he  might  have  been  avenged  by  the 
others. 

But  after  the  words  that  told  that  some  discovery 
had  been  made  by  the  one  in  the  lead,  the  three  horse- 
men spurred  forward  and  went  down  the  hillside  at  a 
gait  that  tested  their  horsemanship  and  the  sure-footed- 
ness of  their  steeds. 

In  spite  of  his  nerve,  the  outlaw  gave  a sigh  of  relief, 
while  from  the  lips  of  the  woman  came  a groan,  for 
hope  with  her  fled,  as  it  brightened  with  her  captor. 

“Now  we  are  safe,  madam,”  he  ejaculated. 

“You  are.”  she  responded. 


34  The  Red  Angels’  Paradise.’ 

“Ah,  yes,  I am,  and  my  fair  captive  is  also,  let  me 
assure  her,”  and  there  was  a sneer  in  his  look  and 
tone. 

“As  safe  as  I would  be  with  a Comanche.” 

“Hal  ha!  that  is  your  opinion  of  me,  is  it?  Well, 
we  shall  see;  but,  do  you  know,  I would  rather  meet 
the  devil  than  those  three  men?  But  come,  let  them 
go  their  way,  and  we  will  go  ours.” 

As  the  brigand  spoke,  he  rode  out  of  the  ravine  cau- 
tiously, the  woman  following,  and  as  he  turned  once 
more  into  the  trail,  he  saw  what  it  was  that  had  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  Buffalo  Bill  and  his  pards, 
for  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  tragic  scene  he  had  left  upon 
the  prairie,  and  he  saw  that  the  soldier  who  had  fled  to 
save  his  life  had  returned,  and  was  aiding  his  officer, 
who  was  still  pinned  down  by  his  dead  horse. 

Still  some  distance  from  the  spot,  but  riding  rapidly 
toward  it,  were  the  three  horsemen,  and  the  road-agent 
remarked  quickly : 

“Come,  madam,  those  three  men  may  soon  be  bade 
here  on  our  trails,  so  we  have  no  time  to  lose.” 

With  this  he  rode  on  ahead  as  swiftly  as  the  nature 
of  the  ground  permitted,  and  calling  to  his  white  horse 


The  Red  Angels’  Paradise. 


35 


to  follow,  the  faithful  animal  trotted  close  behind  him, 
and  the  woman  fully  realized  that  she  was  now  wholly 
at  the  mercy  of  her  desperate  captor. 

For  several  hours  the  two- pressed  on  in  silence,  the 
outlaw  following  the  trail  readily  in  the  darkness,  and 
simply  riding  by  the  side  of  his  prisoner  after  the  sun 
went  down,  as  though  suspicious  of  an  attempt  upon 
her  part  to  escape,  and  confident  of  her  ability  to  do  so 
if  he  relaxed  his  watchfulness. 

The  hills  into  which  they  had  penetrated  were  not 
very  extensive,  and  crossing  the  ridge,  the  outlaw  held 
his  way  along  their  base  upon  the  open  prairie  until  it 
was  after  midnight;  then  he  turned  sharply  into  the 
dense  shadow  of  the  hills  once  more,  and,  penetrating  a 
canon,  suddenly  halted  at  the  loud  command : 

“Halt ! who  comes  ?” 

“The  captain,”  was  the  answer,  and  the  outlaw  was 

«► 

moving  on,  when  again  came  the  words : 

“Halt!  Who  is  t’other  one?” 

“The  other  is  my  prisoner.  Is  that  you,  Dead 

Knife?" 

“Aye,  aye,  cap’n,  it  are  what  are  left  o’  me,’’  an- 
swered a voice  in  the  darkness. 


36  The  Red  Angels’  Paradise. 

“You  are  ear  the  alert,  I am  glad  to  see.” 

“I  alius  is  awake,  cap’n,  where  thar  is  duty  ter  be 
did.” 

“I  know  that,  Jim,  and  I intend  you  shall  step  into 
Van’s  shoes  as  second  in  command  of  the  band.” 

“Thankee,  cap’n,  an’  Van  were  a durned  fool  ter  per- 
secute Buffalo  Bill,  fer  he  are  fatal  lightning  every 
time.” 

“I  came  near  being  struck  by  that  lightning  this 

f 

afternoon,  Jim,  for  I met  Bill  and  Surgeon  Powell’s 
two  brothers,  Night  Hawk  and  Broncho  Bill,  hunting 
in  the  hills:  It  was  a narrow  miss.” 

“Yer  was  in  luck,  cap’n,  fer  if  you  is  a dandy  on 
ther  rampage  in  a scrimmage,  they  kin  lick  their 
weight  in  any  man  flesh  I ev&r  seen;  but  ain’t  thet  a 
female  woman  yer  hes  thar  ?” 

“Yes,  it  is  a fair  prisoner  I captured  from  the  Over- 
land coach.  But  be  on  the  watch,  for  Buffalo  Bill  may 
have  struck  my  trail  and  followed  me  here.” 

“I’ll  be  awake,  cap’n,  you  bet.” 

The  knight  of  the  road  now  moved  on  up  the  canon, 
and  after  a ride  of  half  a mile  came  to  where  it  widened 
into  a vale,  and  here  suddenly  burst  upon  the  view  of 


The  Red  Angels’  Paradise.  37 

the  prisoner  a number  of  camp-fires,  dimly  burning,  but 
with  glimmer  of  light  enough  left  to  show  in  the  back- 
ground a row  of  rude  tents. 

“Here,  madam,  is  the  paradise  of  the  Red  Angels, 
and  I bid  you  welcome,”  said  the  outlaw  mockingly, 
and  riding  up  to  the  door  of  a cabin  that  was  larger 
than  the  others,  and  stood  apart  some  rods  by  itself,  he 
called  out : 

“Ho,  Brick!” 

“Yas,  massa;  Brick  am  here,  sah,”  was  the  answer, 
as  a huge  negro  came  out  of  the  hut. 

“Give  me  a light  dnd  then  take  these  horses.” 

“Yas,  sah.  Been  ter  supper?” 

“No,  get  supper  for  two,  as  I have  a lady  friend 
with  me.” 

“Yas,  massa,”  and  a moment  after  a light  shone  in, 
the  cabin,  and  the  outlaw  leader  led  the  woman  within, 
saying  in  the  same  sneering  tone: 

“Captain  Hyena  welcomes  you,  my  dear  madam,  to 
his  outlaw  den.” 

The  hut  of  the  outlaw  was  by  no  means  a tempting 
abode;  yet  it  was  not  uncomfortable,  and  some  at- 
tempts had  been  made  to  have  it  as  pleasant  as  such  a 


38  The  Red  Angels’  Paradise. 

home  could  be,  for  the  Red  Angel  band  lived  in  the 
saddle,  and  were  constantly  on  the  move,  “bag  and 
baggage.” 

Who  their  chief  was  no  one  knew,  for  it  was  said  by 
his  followers  that  his  negro  servant  Brick  was  the  only 
one  that  had  ever  seen  his  face.  He  had  been  a road- 
agent  on  a Kansas  trail,  it  was  rumored,  and  had 
there  been  alone  in  his  daring  game  of  robbery — or,  at 
least,  the  negro  was  his  only  companion. 

Some  of  his  desperate  work  won  him  a name  that 
caused  him  to  be  greatly  feared,  and  being  hunted  too 
close,  he  had  gone  to  another  Overland  trail  to  carry  on 
his  reckless  plan  of  getting  gold. 

Again  driven  away,  he  had  taken  up  his  abode  in 
Nebraska,  and  soon  his  name  became  well  known  and 
feared  on  the  northern  trails,  and  a number  of  evil  men 
flocked  to  his  side  and  asked  him  to  become  their 
leader. 

Bearing  the  name  of  the  Red  Angel,  on  account  of 
the  scarlet  mask  he  wore,  he  soon  became  known  as 
Captain  Hyena,  from  his  cruelties,  while  his  men  knew 
him  simply  as  Captain  Kit. 

How  many  men  he  had  in  his  band  no  one  outside 


The  Red  Angels’  Paradise.  39 

seemed  to  know,  for  it  was  reported  to  number  all  the 
way  from  twelve  to  a hundred. 

If  he  had  any  regular  retreat  or  stronghold,  the  best 
scouts  had  been  unable  to  find  it,  for  he  seemed  to  dwell 
upon  the  prairie  with  his  outlaws,  horses,  pack-mules, 
and  baggage,  and  camped  but  a short  while  in  any 
plate. 

The  soldiers  from  the  fort  had  often  been  on  his 
trail  for  weeks,  to  return  disappointed  and  find  that 
he  had  attacked  some  train,  or  robbed  the  stage-coach, 
almost  in  sight  of  the  military-post. 

Some  time  previous  to  the  opening  of  this  story, 
Captain  Kit  had  attacked  an  emigrant-train,  robbed  it, 
slain  several  of  the  party,  and  had  killed  one  Richard 
Joslyn,  a gentleman  with  an  only  child,  who  would 
have  fallen  into  his  power  but  for  the  appearance  of 
Buffalo  Bill  upon  the  scene,  who  rescued  her,  though 
he  himself  fell  into  the  power  of  the  prairie  brigand. 

He  had,  however,  desperately  wounded  the  chief,  and 
a compromise  was  made  by  which  he  was  to  care  for 
Captain  Kit,  in  return  for  his  life,  for  the  outlaws  had 
long  before  sentenced  the  brave  scout  to  death  as  their 
bitterest  foe. 


40  The  Red  Angels’  Paradise. 

Surrounded  by  a hostile  band  of  Sioux,  and  their 
chief  lying  wounded,  the  Red  Angels  were  forced  to 
call  upon  their  prisoner,  who  knew  something  of  sur- 
gery, to  save  them,  they  knowing  his  desperate  cour- 
age and  skill  as  a plainsman  and  Indian-fighrter. 

In  safety  he  had  led  them  to  the  retreat  in  the  hills, 
where  they  went  occasionally  to  recuperate  and  rest ; 
but  in  spite  of  their  compact  and  his  services,  they 
sought  his  life  at  the  hands  of  an  assassin,  whose  arm 
was  broken  by  a shot  from  the  scout’s  pistol. 

When,  at  last,  the  chief  and  Dead  Knife  J'im,  the 
one-armed  assassin,  were  out  of  danger,  Buffalo  Bill 
demanded  his  liberty,  to  find  that  he  was  to  be  allowed 
to  go,  but  ambushed  and  shot  down  after  leaving 
camp. 

This  piece  of  treachery  was  made  known  to  him  by 
Dead  Knife  Jim,  who  had  formed  a deep  friendship  for 
the  man  whom  he  had  attempted  to  kill,  and  who  had 
repaid  him  by  breaking  his  arm  with  a bullet. 

Avoiding  the  danger — being  thus  forewarned — the 
scout  struck  the  trail  back  to  the  fort,  to  meet  Surgeon 
Powell’s  two  brothers  coming  on  the  search  for  him. 

Back  to  the  fort  the  three  went ; and  once  more  him- 


The  Red  Angels’  Paradise.  41 

self,  the  Red  Angel  chief  began  again  his  depredations 
along  the  Overland  trail  and  against  any  unprotected 
ranch  where  booty  was  to  be  gained. 

Thus  matters  stood  at  the  opening  of  this  story,  and 
what  with  the  robberies  of  the  Red  Angels  and  the 
raids  of  the  Sioux,  that  part  of  the  country  was  cer- 
tainly a most  perilous  locality  to  dwell  in,  and  the  man 
who  roamed  the  prairies  without  a large  force  at  his 
back  literally  carried  his  life  in  his  hands. 

But  Buffalo  Bill  and  his  pards  were  men  who  went 
alone  without  fear,  and  roamed  the  prairies  whereso- 
ever they  pleased,  taking  all  chances,  the  scout  making, 
at  the  time,  almost  daily  pilgrimages  for  many  miles 
to  the  ranch  of  an  old  Southern  gentleman  who  had 
settled  there,  surrounded  by  his  negroes,  who,  although 
“slavery  days”  were  a thing  of  the  past,  had  clung  to 
him  in  misfortune  as  in  riches,  and  had  gone  with  their 
loved  master  to  seek  a home  in  the  land  of  the  setting 
sun. 

A friend  of  this  Southern  ranchero  had  sent  to  his 
home  the  young  girl  whose  father,  the  dying  emigrant, 
had  left  to  his  care,  and  Janette  Joslyn  had  found  a 
warm  welcome  at  Prairie  Rest  Ranch. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


CAPTAIN  KIT  AND  HIS  PRISONER. 

“Well,  madam,  be  seated  there,  and  then  we  will 
have  a little  talk,”  commanded  the  chief  of  the  out- 
laws, motioning  to  a rustic  chair  upon  one  side  of  the 
table,  while  he  calmly  took  another  just  opposite. 

The  woman  sank  into  the  chair,  in  a tired  way,  and 
leaned  her  head  upon  her  hands. 

“While  Brick  is  getting  some  supper  for  us,  we  may 
as  well  become  better  acquainted.  Do  you  remember 
to  have  seen  me  before?”  asked  the  Red  Angel. 

“Your  mask  hides  your  face  so  that  I cannot  tell.” 

“Ah ! Well,  as  I do  not  remove  it  before  my  men,  I 
shall  not  before  you ; but  will  frankly  say  that  we  have 
met  before  our  meeting  the  past  day.” 

“When  and  where?”  asked  the  woman  quickly. 

“You  certainly  do  not  think  that  I would  run  off 
with  a strange  lady,  with  really  no  better  claim  to 
loveliness  than  you  have  ? Oh,  no,  I have  better  taste 


Captain  Kit  and  His  Prisoner.  43 

than  that,  and  I kidnaped  you  because  we  were  old 
friends,  and  I needed  your  aid.” 

“In  God’s  name,  who  are  you?”  gasped  the  woman 
hoarsely. 

“Your  name  first,  please?” 

“My  name  is  Mrs.  Kirk.” 

“Ah ! so  I thought,  my  dear  madam ; but  now  let  me 
recall  a little  scene  in  the  past  to  you.  Do  you  remem- 
ber Richard  Joslyn  ?” 

The  woman  started,  and  asked : 

“What  of  him?” 

“He  had  a confidential  clerk,  you  may  remember  ?” 

She  made  no  reply,  and  the  man  continued : 

“His  name  was  Kirk  Kendrick,  you  know.” 

Still  no  reply,  but  a start,  and  a deathly  pallor  spread 
over  her  face. 

“And  old  Joslyn  had  an  adopted  son,  a youth  a trifle 
fast,  and  who,  spending  all  of  his  allowance,  sought 
to  get  more  from  the  old  gentleman  by  a clever  little 
plan  he  concocted  with  this  confidential  clerk,  Kirk 
Kendrick.” 

“In  Heaven’s  name,  tell  me  who  you  are?” 

“It  matters  not  who  I am,  for  I know  who  you  are.” 


44 


Captain  Kit  and  His  Prisoner. 

“And  who  am  I?” 

“Do  not  be  too  anxious  to  test  my  knowledge  of 
just  who  you  are,  but  listen  to  my  story  of  those  two 
young  men,  the  adopted  son  and  the  confidential  clerk 
of  old  Joslyn.  They,  having  forged  his  name  for  large 
sums,  which  they  received  and  lost  in  gambling,  he, 
when  the  discovery  was  made,  paid  the  checks,  to  shield 
that  son  from  shame  and  dishonor,  and  it  made  a poor 
man  of  him.  Unable  to  hold  up  his  head  as  he  had 
done  when  possessed  of  wealth,  he  started  for  the 
West,  and  lost  his  life  on  these  plains  when  I attacked 
his  train  and  robbed  it  of  booty. 

“But  his  daughter  escaped,  and  she  is  now  living  at 
a ranch  near  the  Overland  trail,  having  been  adopted 
by  an  old  ranchero,  who,  with  his  band  of  black  cow- 
boys, has  several  times  beaten  off  my  men.  That  girl 
was  rescued  from  me  by  the  leader  of  the  three  we 
saw  to-day,  and  I am  determined  to  get  possession  of 
her,  and  to  do  so  I need  your  immediate  aid." 

“My  aid  ?”  gasped  the  woman. 

“I  will  no  longer  carry  on  this  trifling,  but  say  to 
you  at  once : In  spite  of  your  petticoats,  Kirk  Ken- 
drick. I know  vou !” 


Captain  Kit  and  His  Prisoner.  45 

The  one  in  woman’s  attire  sprang  up  quickly,  but 
sank  back  as  Captain  Kit  coolly  continued : 

“My  dear  Kendrick,  you  always  were  a handsome, 

woman-faced  fellow,  and  were  wont  to  have  your  little 

jokes  at  masquerade  balls  by  playing  the  part  of  a 

» 

girl,  and  you  have  taken  your  character  well  this  time, 
but  it  has  not  fooled  me.  The  truth  is,  I know  that 
you  are  a courier  at  the  fort,  and  volunteered,  when 
you  knew  how  dangerous  I was  making  it  along  the 
trails,  to  go  back  to  Omaha  and  meet  the  paymaster, 
receiving  from  him  certain  money  intended  for  those 
in  the  fort. 

“You  divulged  your  plan  to  Major  Benteen,  the  com- 
mandant, and  he  jumped  at  it;  and  you  played  your 
hand  well,  only  I held  the  winning  cards,  knowing 
your  secret ; and  I have  you  and  your  little  satchel,  with 
rts  boodle,  in  my  power.  You  see,  I trumped  your 
best  card,  my  dear  Kendrick.” 

“Who  are  you  ?”  again  asked  Kendrick. 

“Never  mind  who  I am,  but  understand  that  I need 
you  and  shall  use  you.”  \ 

“Never !” 

“Don’t  get  excited,  for  you  have  been  as  meek  as  an 


46  Captain  Kit  and  His  Prisoner. 

old  woman  since  I kidnaped  you,  and  I know  you  do 
not  wish  trouble  with  me.” 

The  prisoner  fairly  groaned,  and  Captain  Kit  wentl 
on: 

“Now,  Kendrick,  serving  in  the  army  is  very  hon- 
orable, but ” 

“Yes,  I am  trying  to  forget  the  past  and  live  ant 
honorable  life  now.” 

“You  can’t  do  it,  for  it  isn’t  in  you,  and  I verily 
believe  you  did  not  jump  the  trail  with  the  money  in 
that  satchel  because  you  hoped  to  get  a larger  stake  in 
your  hands  some  day.  No,  you  are  not  honest,  for  I 
know  you,  and  I intend  that  you  shall  serve  me.” 

“But  how?” 

“First,  you  must  desert  from  the  army,”  was  the 
cool  rejoinder  of  Captain  Kit,  the  Red  Angel  chief. 

The  words  of  the  Red  Angel  chief  fell  like  a saber- 
stroke  upon  the  disguised  man  who  had  been  called 
by  the  name  of  Kirk  Kendrick.  For  a moment  he 
seemed  unable  to  speak,  and  then  he  said  huskily : 

“Desert  from  the  army?” 

“Of  course.” 

“But  why?” 


Captain  Kit  and  His  Prisoner.  47 

‘'I  demand  it.” 

"Who  are  you?” 

"Your  master,  because  I hold  your  secret.” 

The  man  shuddered  and  asked : 

"Will  you  answer  me  one  question?  You  knew  the 
adopted  son  of  Mr.  Joslyn?” 

"As  I knew  you,  I knew  him,  for  you  were  both 
thieves.” 

"He  is  said  to  be  dead.” 

"So  it  was  reported — that  he  was  killed  in  a gam- 
bling-den in  New  Orleans.” 

"A  fitting  fate.  I wonder  what  will  be  mine?” 

"To  die  in  prison,  if  you  do*not  do  as  I demand.” 

Again  the  man  shuddered,  and  a look  of  deep  an- 
guish passed  over  his  face,  while  he  said : 

"I  sinned  once,  and  the  remorse  I suffered  made  me 
repent  and  vow  to  live  an  honest  life.” 

"Once  a thief,  always  a thief,”  was  the  laconic  re- 
joinder. 

"No,  I repented  faithfully,  for  I have  a dear  old 
mother  who  raised  me  properly,  and  finding  that  she 
knew  nothing  of  my  crime,  I was  determined  that  she 
never  should.  I heard  that  my  partner  in  guilt  was 


48  Captain  Kit  and  His  Prisoner. 

dead,  and  so  I drifted  about  looking  for  work,  and, 
being  small  of  stature,  I got  to  be  Pony  Express  rider, 
and  from  that  I was  taken  into  the  army  as  a flying 
courier,  with  a promise  of  a lieutenancy,  for  some  des- 
perate rides  I made  through  the  Indian  country.” 

“Yes,  and  you  shot  two  of  my  men  on  different  oc- 
casions, when  they  merely  sought  toll  of  you  on  our 
highway.” 

“They  attacked  me,  and  I shot  them,  yes,  for  I car- 
ried valuable  papers  and  considerable  money  belonging 
to  the  government.” 

“Oh,  you  are  a good  one,  I admit,  and  you  played 
your  petticoat  part  well,  and  nearly  killed  my  horse 
when  firing  upon  me  from  the  stage;  but  because  you 
are  good,  I want  you,  as  you  can  serve  me  well  in 
breeches,  or  skirts,  as  the  case  may  be  when  I need 
you.” 

“No,  I cannot  do  it.” 

“Oh,  yes;  and  you  must  also  desert  from  the  army.” 

“If  I do  I will  be  shot.” 

“If  you  are  caught;  D&t-  it  is  catching  before  hang- 
ing,  you  know.” 


49 


Captain  Kit  and  His  Prisoner. 

“I  will  not  do  it.” 

“Then  I will  send  you  to  prison  for  the  full  length 
of  time  that  is  due  a forger  and  a thief  of  your  ilk, 
and  publish  you  as  such  from  one  end  of  the  country 
to  the  other.  I am  inexorable.” 

“I  cannot  sin  again.” 

“Well,  you  will  have  the  credit  of  doing  so,  and 
I’ll  have  the  army  after  you,  for  I shall  take  care  to 
send  the  story  of  your  career  to  Major  Benteen,  and 
add  to  it  that  you  arranged  with  Captain  Kit,  or  Cap- 
tain Hyena,  as  they  like  the  name  best,  to  dress  up  as 
a woman  and  have  me  take  you  off  as  a pretended  cap- 
tive, when  you  were  my  pard  in  the  robbery.  That 
will  set  the  war-hounds  on  your  trail  worse  than  a 
wolf.” 

The  man  groaned,  and  then  Captain  Kit  asked : 

“Now  what  will  ybu  do?” 

“As  you  wish,”  came  in  tones  of  anguish  from  the 
doomed  man. 

“You  will  desert?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then  go  again  to  the  fort,  tell  how  you  were 


50  Captain  Kit  and  His  Prisoner. 

carried  off  captive,  and  escaped,  at  the  same  time  being 
able  to  seize  your  satchel  with  these  despatches  and  the 
money.  This  will  place  you  higher  in  the  estimation 
of  all  at  the  fort.  Then  begin  to  work  for  me;  find 
out  certain  things  that  I wish  to  know;  and,  when 
again  entrusted  with  a money-package,  you  will  know 
just  what  to  do  with  it,  and  I will  share  it  evenly 
with  you.  Do  you  understand,  Kirk  Kendrick  ?’ 

"I  do.” 

“And  will  do  as  I wish  ?” 

“I  cannot  do  otherwise,  for  I would  die  if  sent  to 
prison.  I would  prefer  death  to  that.” 

“Both  are  to  be  avoided ; but  now  let  us  have  some 
supper,  and  then  get  some  rest.  Just  before  dawn  I 
will  call  you,  a horse  will  be  ready,  and  you  put  out 
for  the  fort  with  all  speed,  and  after  sunrise  I will 
start  half  a dozen  men  in  pursuit,  with  orders  not  to 
catch  you  if  they  can,  but  to  seem  to  press  you  hard. 
You  understand?” 

“I  am  no  fool.” 

“I  think  you  are,  and  any  other  man  who  commits 
a crime,  for  I am  one ; but,  having  been  a fool,  I must 


j 


Captain  Kit  and  His  Prisoner.  51 

now  be  a fiend  to  destroy  remorse.  Now  come  to  sup- 
per,” and  the  chief  led  the  way  out  to  the  camp-fire, 
where  Brick  had  prepared  a tempting  meal  for  the  Red 
Angel  and  his  victim. 

True  to  his  promise,  Captain  Kit  awoke  his  victim, 
who  had  dropped  into  an  uneasy  slumber,  just  before 
dawn.  Brick  had  a tin  cup  of  hot  coffee  and  some 
breakfast  ready,  and  a horse  near-by  was  saddled  and 
bridled. 

“Here  is  your  satchel,  and  you  will  see  that  I opened 
the  despatches,  and  broke  loose  the  bundles  of  bank- 
bills,  to  show  they  had  been  looked  over;  but  nothing 
is  missing.  You  can  say  that  you  arose  at  night,  saw 
your  satchel,  seized  it,  made  your  way  out,  and,  seeing 
a horse  saddled  and  bridled,  mounted  him  and  rode 
off.  That  tells  the  story.  If  asked  to  guide  a force 
here,  do  so,  for  I shall  not  remain  in  this  camp  after 
to-morrow.  Now  we  will  start,  for  you  know  just 
what  to  do.” 

The  disguised  soldier  sprang  into  the  saddle,  seating 
himself  sideways,  as  became  his  attire,  and,  Brick  lead- 
ing up  the  chief’s  horse,  the  two  rode  out  of  the  camp 
toget'--  passing  the  sentinel  on  duty  ' France 


52  Captain  Kit  and  His  Prisoner. 

to  the  canon,  but  who  was  not  the  man  Dead  Knife 
Jim,  who  had  halted  them  on  their  way  into  the 
brigand  camp. 

“Do  you  know  your  trail  now?”  asked  the  chief, 
halting  just  as  the  sun  arose  above  the  horizon. 

“Yes,  I think  so.” 

“Push  on  rapidly,  for  that  is  a great  traveler  you  are 
on.  I shall  put  half  a dozen  or  more  men  in  pursuit 
when  I return  to  camp;  so  now  be  off.” 

The  chief  wheeled  his  horse  and  rode  slowly  back 
to  camp,  while  the  man  in  woman’s  attire  started  at  a 
gallop  out  of  the  timber  where  the  two  had  parted,  and 
struck  the  trail  leading  across  the  prairie. 

When  known,  the  face  was  that  of  a man,  and  not 
of  a woman ; there  were  visible  certain  points  and  ex- 
pressions upon  it  that  would  certainly  be  out  of  place 
on  a feminine  countenance,  as  one  might  see  did  he 
dissect  the  features  carefully. 

The  form  was  slender  and  wiry,  and  the  make-up 
perfect — even  the  movements  and  voice  being  womanly 
at  the  will  of  the  man.  His  face  was  handsome,  and! 
devoid  of  beard,  for  he  never  yet  had  used  a razor. 

He  rode  well,  although  in  a constrained  position, 


Captain  Kit  and  His  Prisoner.  53 

sideways  on  a man’s  saddle,  and  as  he  went  along 
brooded  deeply  over  what  had  occurred. 

That  he  had  repented  of  the  past  and  reformed  there 
was  no  doubt ; but  he  had  been  tempted,  when  he  found 
himself  the  bearer  of  a large  sum  of  money,  and,  al- 
lowing himself  to  dwell  upon  the  temptation,  might 
some  day  have  disappeared  with  a large  amount  en- 
trusted to  his  care,  without  the  instigation  of  Captain 
Kit  to  do  so,  which  showed  that  he  was  at  heart  a sin- 
ner, and  came  near  fitting  the  words  of  the  chief, 
“Once  a thief,  always  a thief.” 

Who  the  outlaw  leader  was,  the  courier  could  not 
guess. 

“I  cannot  place  him  to  save  my  life,  and  yet  I know 
that  we  have  met,”  he  muttered  to  himself.  “He  is 
dead,  so  it  cannot  be  he ; but  if  he  was  alive,  the  blond 
mustache  and  hair  of  the  chief  would  prove  that  it  was 
my  companion  in  that  crime  which  ruined  poor  Richard 
Joslyn,  and  really  murdered  him,  for  he  came  West  to 
his  death. 

“How  the  sight  of  his  daughter,  when  she  was  at 
the  fort  the  other  day,  struck  me  with  remorse!  I 
shunned  her,  though  for  her  to  recognize  me  I knew 


54  Captain  Kit  and  His  Prisoner* 

would  be  impossible  under  the  circumstance's,  as  the 
confidential  clerk  of  her  father  has  changed*  I know, 
and  she  hardly  knew  me  then,  and  was  but  a girl.  No, 
no,  she  will  not  recognize  me,  not  dreaming  to  see  me 
here  ; but  I shall  avoid  her  all  I can  until  I leave. 

“It  hurts  me  hard  to  desert;  but  what  can  I do? 
I am  on  the  rolls  as  John  Kendrick,  so  no  one  will 
recognize  that  name  as  mine,  and  my  mother  will  not 
see  it.  Well,  if  I turn  to  outlawry,  my  poor  mother 
shall  benefit  thereby,  for  I shall  send  her  money  enough 
to  buy  back  her  little  home  and  live  in  comfort,  though 
how  she  would  scorn  it  were  she  to  know  how  it  was 
made;  yes,  and  it  would  break  her  dear  old  heart  to 
feel  her  boy  was  such  a scoundrel. 

“Well,  I am  in  for  it,  the  die  is  cast,  and  I must  ac- 
cept the  situation,  and,  if  chance  again  offers,  become 
honest  some  time  in  the  future,  when  I have  more 
money  than  now.” 

Thus  the  man,  a scamp  at  heart,  soliloquized,  as  he 
rode  along  over  the  prairie,  his  horse  in  a long,  sweep- 
ing gallop  that  cast  mile  after  mile  swiftly  behind  him. 

At  length  he  halted  to  rest,  and  to  refresh  himself 
and  horse  at  a stream  that  lay  in  his  way.  Luring 


Captain  Kit  and  His  Prisoner.  55 

against  a tree,  he  dropped  into  a deep  slumber,  from 
which  he  awoke  with  a start,  to  behold  half  a score 
of  horsemen  coming  over  the  prairie,  evidently  on  his 
trail,  yet  still  over  a mile  distant. 

Instantly  he  knew  that  they  must  be  the  Red  Angels 
in  chase,  and  the  sun  showed  him  that  he  had  tarried 
there  several  hours. 

To  bridle  his  horse,  draw  up  the  lariat  stake,  and 
mount  was  the  work  of  a minute,  and  then  away  he 
went,  the  outlaws,  with  yells  at  sight  of  him,  coming 
on  in  swift  pursuit. 

The  horse  which  Captain  Kit  had  given  Kirk  Ken- 
drick was  a good  one,  and  held  his  own  without  being 
pushed  to  full  speed.  The  rest  he  had  had  also  aided 
him,  and  the  rider  seemed  fully  capable  to  keep  the  lead 

he  had. 

But  it  was  evident  that  his  pursuers  had  expected 
to  find  him  farther  ahead,  and  the  way  they  pursued 
him  then  seemed  to  give  the  idea  that  they  were  in 
deadly  earnest  about  his  capture. 

“Those  men  seem  to  be  in  earnest,”  muttered  Kirk 
Kendrick,  as  he  rode  along,  and  he  eyed  the  pursuers 
with  a look  that  showed  suspicion  of  them. 


56  Captain  Kit  and  His  Prisoner. 

“But  they  cannot  mean  to  capture  me  if  they  have 
the  power,  though  I cannot  understand  their  seeming 
eagerness  in  chase,  for  there  seems  nothing  to  be 
gained  by  it  here,  though  it  would  be  well  to  make  the 
show  if  near  the  fort,  or  where  some  one  could  see  it. 
Ah!” 

The  exclamation  was  caused  by  having  his  horse  sud- 
' denly  stumble  and  fall. 

Kirk  Kendrick  was  as  nimble  as  a cat,  and  in  spite 
of  the  woman’s  dress  he  wore,  and  being  hampered1 
with  skirts,  he  landed  on  his  feet,  and  saved  himself 
from  a broken  leg  or  arm. 

The  horse  did  not  escape  so  fortunately,  for  the  ani- 
mal got  to  his  feet  with  an  effort,  and  was  thoroughly 
lame.  Springing  back  into  the  saddle,  however,  the 
fugitive  urged  him  on,  though  the  movement  seemed 
most  painful  to  the  poor  horse. 

Before  him  the  land  was  broken  a little,  with  timber, 
a creek,  a few  hills  *and  divides  here  and  there.  It 
would  be  hard  going  for  the  injured  horse,  Kendrick 
knew,  and  he  looked  anxiously  back  at  his  pursuers. 

They  were  coming  on  with  the  same  eagerness  as  be- 


Captain  Kit  and  His  Prisoner.  57 

fore,  and  it  seemed  very  certain  that  they  had  either 
misunderstood  the  orders  of  their  chief,  or  meant  mis- 
chief. 

Thoroughly  alarmed  now,  Kendrick  pushed  on  as 
rapidly  as  his  suffering  horse  could  be  forced  to  go. 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE  DEATH-LOTTERY. 

As  he  neared  the  rougher  country,  Kendrick  became 
more  and  more  convinced  that  the  outlaws  in  chase 
were  not  obeying  the  orders  of  their  leader,  Captain 
Kit,  for  they  were  steadily  gaining  upon  him.  His 
horse  was  too  lame  from  his  fall  to  keep  up  the  race 
much  longer,  and  then  the  end  must  come. 

“Did  they  know  him  to  be  a man  ini  woman’s  garb? 
Did  they  know  that  he  had  the  money  which  Captain 
Kit  had  returned  to  him?  Did  they  know  him  as  he 
really  was?” 

All  these  questions  the  man  continued  to  ask  him- 
self over  and  over  again,  but  without  being  able  to 
answer  them  with  satisfaction  to  himself. 

At  length  he  reached  the  low  ridge  of  hills,  and 
was  just  disappearing  in  the  timber,  when  a shot  came 
from  the  leading  one  of  the  pursuers,  and  Kendrick’s 
horse  went  down  with  a groan,  the  bullet  having  shat- 
tered his  les-. 

F" 


Tile  Death-lottery.  59 

Again  the  man  saved  himself  from  a fall  by  his 
agility,  and  at  once  feeling  that  those  on  his  path  meant 
mischief,  he  bounded  away  up  the  hill,  to  trip  and  fall 
heavily  against  a tree. 

For  a moment  he  was  dazed,  as  the  blow  upon  his 
head  had  been  a severe  one,  and  he  staggered  when  he 
arose  to  his  feet  and  once  more  sought  to  fly  and  seek 
some  hiding-place.  But  it  was  useless,  for  the  next  in- 
stant the  leading  outlaw  dashed  up,  with  the  words : 

“Hold  on,  thar,  woman,  for  my  weepin  might  go 
off  an’  hurt  yer!” 

The  man  halted  and  turned  toward  the  horseman; 
who  just  then  threw  himself  from  his  horse  and  con- 
fronted him. 

“Who  are  you,  and  what  do  you  wish  of  me  ?”  asked1 
Kendrick,  assuming  the  feminine  voice  he  so  well  knew! 
how  to  use. 

“I  are  one  of  the  Red  Angel  gang,  set  arter  yer  by 
Cap’n  Kit,  an’  here  comes  t’other  boys,  seven  o’  us  in 

all.” 

“You  had  no  orders  to  capture  me,”  indignantly  said 
Kendrick,  the  very  picture  of  an  insulted  woman. 

“Fact,  but  one  o’  ther  boys  found  or  ver  car* 


60  The  Death-lottery. 

ried  yer  dust  back  with  yer,  an’  thet  it  were  a hand- 
some leetle  pile,  so  we  come  ter  ther  conclusion  ter  take 
yer  in,  git  yer  leetle  money,  an’  then  ter  let  yer  go  yer 
way.” 

“You  dare  not  rob  med’ 

“Boys,  she  says  we  dasn’t  rob  her  !”  cried  the  man, 
turning  to  his  comrades,  who  just  then  came  up. 

“Yes,  we  dare,  you  bet!”  cried  one,  and  all  sprang 
from  their  horses  and  surrounded  the  disguised  man. 

“Well,  what  is  it  you  wish?”  asked  Kendrick,  with 
the  well-assumed  air  of  an  injured  woman. 

“We  wants  the  gold,”  said  the  first  speaker. 

“I  have  no  gold  with  me.” 

“You  has  paper,  an’  that  calls  for  the  yaller  dust, 
you  bet !” 

“Would  you  rob  a woman?” 

“Now  you  is  talkin’ ; we  would.” 

“But  you  shall  not  have  the  money.” 

“We  will.” 

“I’ll  resist  to  the  last !” 

“Better  not,  fer  yer  might  get  shooted.” 

“You  surely  would  not  kill  a woman?” 


6i 


tar***- 

Tlie  Death-lottery. 

“Waal,  it  kinder  looks  as  though  we  would,  when  I 
shooted  at  yer  a while  ago.” 

“But  you  shot  my  horse.” 

“I  wasn’t  partic’lar  who  I hitted.” 

“Villains !” 

“Oh,  we  knows  our  characters  well,  an’  knowin’ 
our  wants,  we  says  ter  you,  give  up  thet  leetle  satchel 
o’  dust.” 

“I  will  not!” 

“Waal,  we  will  hev  ter  take  it.” 

“I  warn  you!” 

“Oh,  we  hes  all  been  warned,  an’  knows  jist  all  about 
a woman’s  howlin’.” 

“But  your  chief  did  not  order  this  outrage  upon 

^ 99 

me. 

“No,  he  gives  us  orders  we  was  to  do,  afid  we  con- 
cluded we’d  do  a little  work  of  our  own.” 

“But  he  shall  know  of  your  deed.” 

“I  guesses  not,  for  he’ll  think  you  got  kilt  by  Injuns, 

you  know.” 

« 

“No,  he  shall  know  that  I was  robbed  by  men  of  his 


band.” 


62 


The  Death-lottery. 


This  was  a poser  for  the  outlaws,  and  they  were 
silent  for  an  instant,  when  one  asked: 

“How’ll  he  know  it?” 

“I  shall  tell  him.” 

“Oh,  you  will?” 

“Yes.” 

“Waal,  pards,  ef  she  is  gwine  ter  tell  on  us,  we  hed 
better  keep  her  from  doin’  it,” 

“But  how  kin  yer  stop  a woman’s  tongue)  Jake?” 

“I  admit  there  be  but  one  way.” 

“And  how  are  thet  ?” 

“Dead  tongues  don’t  wag,  pards,  even  if  they  is 
women’s.” 

A silence  fell  upon  all  at  this,  while  Kendrick  turned 
deadly  pale. 

Alarmed  by  the  approbation  the  remark  of  their 
leader  seemed  to  meet  with,  he  said : 

“If  I swear  not  to  tell  your  chief,  you  will  not  kill 
me?” 

“Yas,  fer  a woman  ain’t  ter  be  trusted  with  a secret.” 

“Then  take  my  money  and  spare  my  life.” 

“Can’t  do  it,  fer  we  is  greedy  enough  to  want  both. 
Say,  boys,  let  us  kill  her.” 


The  Death-lottery.  63 

“All  right,  Jake,  ef  you  says  so;  but  I hates  ter  kill 
a woman.” 

“Whar’s  ther  dif’rence,  pard,  atween  a man  an’  a 
woman,  whar  killin’  is  ter  be  did  ?” 

This  argument  seemed  to  be  unanswerable,  and  the 
outlaws  nodded  consent  to  the  devilish  act,  while  one 
asked ; 

“Who  are  ter  do  ther  killin’  ?” 

'No  one  answered,  and  again  came  the  question : 

“Who  are  ter  do  ther  killin’,  pards  ?” 

“Waal,  let  us  draw  lots  fer  who  are  ter  do  ther 
work,”  said  Jake. 

Each  man  took  a piece  of  gold  from  his  pocket,  and 
making  a mark  upon  one  piece,  threw  all  into  a tobacco- 
pouch.  Then  the  gold  was  shaken  up,  and  each  man 
put  in  his  hand  and  drew  a piece  out. 

During  this  scene  of  drawing  lots  to  see  who  should 
be  his  murderer,  Kirk  Kendrick  stood  like  a statue, 
white  as  death,  and  gazing  at  his  captors,  who  faced 
him,  some  ten  feet  from  him. 

Each  man,  in  spite  of  their  sinful  lives,  seemed  to 
feel  relieved  when  he  drew  out  his  hand  from  the  to- 


64  The  Death-lottery. 

bacco-pouch  and  saw  that  he  did  not  have  the  marked 
gold  piece. 

One  by  one  they  drew  for  the  fatal  coin  in  that 
death-lottery,  and  at  last  all  had  drawn  but  Jake. 

V 

“You  is  elected,  Jake.” 

; “Yer  has  ter  do  it,  pard.” 

| “Take  a knife  fer  it,  Jake,  fer  it  are  more  pleasanter 
ter  die  thet  way.” 

I “No,  shoot  her,  Jake.” 

“Drown  her  in  ther  creek,  pard.” 

“Yas,  hold  her  under  ther  drink,  Jake,  an’  she’ll 
soon  give  up  her  life-grip.” 

“Pizen  her,  pard.” 

i “Make  her  shoot  herself,  so’s  yer  won’t  be  guilty  an’ 
see  her  ghost  o’  dark  nights.” 
i Such  was  the  advice  that  Jake  received,  and  he  stood 
calmly  through  all  until  the  last,  when  he  was  threat- 
ened with  seeing  the  ghost  of  the  supposed  woman. 

At  this  he  turned  pale  and  hesitated,  and  observing 
it,  and  as  they  were  not  to  be  the  Ones  to  kill  her,  his 
comrades  began  to  nag  at  him  with  jests  that  soon 
forced  him  to  say : 

“Pards,  I has  drawed  ter  be  elected  fer  ther  work,  ait* 


The  Death-lottery.  65 

durn  me  ef  I ain’t  got  ther  sand  ter  do  it,  though  I 
never  kilt  a female  afore. 

“Now,  leddy,  jist  tell  me  how  yer  prefer  ter  die,  for 
I are  a marciful  critter,  an’  wants  ter  obleege  yer  as  ter 
ther  style  o’  death  yer  think  yer  would  like  best,"  and 
the  villain  turned  toward  the  supposed  woman  with  a 
look  in  his  face  that  showed  he  had  fully  made  up  his 
mind  to  kill  her. 

Kirk  Kendrick  had  gazed  breathlessly  upon  the 
drawing  of  the  lots  for  the  honor  of  putting  him  to 
death,  and  feeling  that-  he  was  wholly  in  the  power  of 
his  foes,  he  knew  not  what  to  do. 

It  flashed  through  his  mind  to  tell  them  that  he  was 
not  a woman,  but  a man;  but  then  came  the  thought 
that  they  would  be  less  merciful  to  him. 

Hardly  knowing  what  he  did  when  Jake,  the  outlaw, 
turned  to  offer  him  his  choice  in  the  manner  of  dying, 
he  whipped  a revolver  out  of  the  folds  of  his  dress,  and 
as  quick  as  flashes  fired  several  shots  and  bounded 
away  with  the  speed  of  a deer. 

The  outlaws  were  not  only  astounded,  but  one  of 
them  dropped  dead,  a bullet  through  his  heart,  and  a 
second  had  been  slightly  wounded.  Amazed  at  thfc 


66 


The  Death-lottery. 


act  and  aim  of  the  woman,  as  they  supposed,  they  were 
momentarily  demoralized,  and  Kendrick  had  a good 
start  of  his  foes  before  they  started  in  pursuit. 

Mounting  their  horses,  then,  in  hot  haste,  they 
spurred  on  in  chase,  having  hastily  stripped  their  dead 
comrade  of  any  money  and  valuables  he  had  about  him, 
and  left  his  body  to  the  coyotes. 

Of  course,  hampered  as  he  was  with  his  skirts,  Ken- 
drick could  not  keep  up  the  speed  he  held  at  starting, 
nor  could  he  hope  to  outrun  the  horses  of  his  pursuers. 

Still,  he  held  his  own  for  a while  quite  well,  until 
he  struck  the  slope  leading  to  the  top  of  a heavily 
wooded  ridge.  Here  his  strength  began  to  fail  him, 
and  the  outlaws  gained  rapidly. 

Fifty  yards  more  and  he  would  reach  the  ridge  and 
the  line  of  trees,  and  then  could  turn  at  bay  on  his 
foes,  and  at  least  sell  his  life  dearly,  perhaps  killing 
one  or  more  of  his  pursuers. 

But  those  on  his  track  were  not  a hundred  yards  be- 
hind, and,  yelling  like  demons,  they  were  pushing  their 
horses  hard,  Jake  shouting  to  his  comrades: 

"Let’s  skeer  her  ter  death,  an’  then  I won’t  hev  ten 


kill  her.” 


The  Death-lottery.  67 

Panting,  staggering,  and  frightened  to  desperation, 
Kirk  Kendrick  ran  on ; but  human  nature  could  stand 
no  more,  and  he  sank  to  his  knees,  raising  his  revolver 
and  facing  his  enemies  to  the  last. 

A wild  shout  came  from  the  outlaws,  and  a moment 
after  they  surrounded  their  victim. 

“Come,  pards,  I gives  a hundred  dollars  ter  each 
man  who  stands  up  with  me  an’  fires  on  this  ’ooman 
at  ther  word!”  cried  Jake. 

“I  speaks  for  a hundred !” 

“Me,  too!” 

The  cries  came  from  two  of  the  worst  of  the  band, 
and  Jake  promptly  took  out  his  wallet  and  counted  out 
the  money,  the  prisoner  kneeling  the  while  and  gazing 
breathlessly  into  the  merciless  faces  of  his  captors. 

“Thet’s  it;  now  we’ll  jist  stan’  heur  an’  fix  this  up 
prime,  fer  I doesn’t  want  ter  know  thet  I kills  her  all 
alone,”  said  Jake. 

The  three  men  now  took  their  stand  ten  paces  away 
from  Kendrick,  who  still  knelt  where  he  had  sunk  in 
his  flight.  He  was  calm  now,  for  he  had  given  up 
hope,  and,  with  hands  tightly  clasped,  faced  his  in- 
tended executioners. 


68  The  Death-lottery. 

Apart  from  the  tragic  group  were  the  rest  of  the 
outlaws,  holding  their  horses  and  gazing  on  with  in- 
terest. 

“Pards,  is  yer  ready?” 

“Yas.” 

“I  is.” 

“Waal,  when  I gives  ther  word  fer ” 

A pistol-shot  silenced  his  tongue  ere  the  sentence  was 
completed,  and  over  the  ridge  bounded  three  men,  a 
revolver  in  each  hand. 

"Buffalo  Bill  an’  his  pards!”  came  a warning  cry, 
and  as  one  man  the  outlaws  bounded  to  their  horses, 
sprang  upon  them,  and  rode  down  the  slope  like  mad, 
without  firing  a single  shot  at  the  enemy,  though  a 
horse  went  down  and  a rider  was  wounded  by  the  rattle 
of  the  revolvers  in  the  hands  of  the  trio  who  had  come 
so  unexpectedly  upon  the  scene. 

From  the  brink  of  the  grave  to  life  was  such  a 
change  for  Kirk  Kendrick  that  he  could  not  speak  as 
his  preservers  ran  up  to  him,  and  the  scout  said : 

“Thank  Heaven,  my  dear  madam,  we  were  in  time, 
and  had  the  nature  of  the  ground  permitted  us  to  ride 
our  horses  over  the  ridge,  we  would  run  yonder  scounr 


The  Death-lottery.  69 

drels  to  earth ; but,  as  it  is,  we  have  one  for  a souvenir,” 
and  Buffalo  Bill  pointed  to  Jake,  who  had  fallen  by  his 
revolver,  the  bullet  entering  his  brain,  although  the 
shot  had  been  a long  one  from  the  top  of  the  hill. 

With  an  effort  Kendrick  regained  his  powers  of  j 
speech,  and  said,  as  he  held  forth  his  hand : 

“I  see  that  you  do  riot  know  me.” 

“We  have  certainly  met  before,  madam,  but  I must 
appear  rude  enough  to  forget  where.”  Buffalo  Bill 
spoke  in  the  courtly  way  natural  to  him,  and  in  a voice 
that  was  deep-toned  and  musical. 

With  death  no  longer  before  him,  Kirk  Kendrick  had 
regained  his  nerve,  and  smiled,  while  he  said : 

“I  am  from  the  fort,  sir.” 

“From  the  fort?”  repeated  the  scout,  while  Night 
Hawk  Powell  remarked : 

“I  am  a scout  there,  madam,  and  do  not  remember 
to  have  seen  you.” 

“I  am  Kendrick,  the  courier.” 

Buffalo  Bill  gave  a long  whistle,  Night  Hawk  ut- 
tered an  exclamation  of  surprise,  while  Broncho  Bill 
muttered : 


“A  courier  in  petticoats!” 


The  Death-lottery. 

“I  will  explain,  gentlemen,  for  an  explanation  is  ne- 
cessary.” 

“It  is  in  order,  Kendrick,”  dryly  said  the  scout. 

“Well,  sir,  I knew  the  paymaster  was  worried  about 
getting  some  money  that  had  been  left  for  him  back 
on  the  Overland,  and,  I told  him  I would  bring  it 
through  in  the  disguise  of  a woman,  and  he  and 
Major  Benteen  agreed  to  it.  I have  often  dressed  up 
in  female  garb  for  fun,  and  so  knew  just  what  to  get 
and  how  to  wear  it,  and  here  I am.” 

“But-this  is  a long  way  off  the  Overland  trail,  Ken- 
drick, and  we  found  you  in  a bad  fix.” 

“I  admit  it,  sir,  and  also  that  I owe  you  my  life, 
Buffalo  Bill.” 

“Don’t  speak  of  that,  madam — I mean  my  man ; but 
tell  me,  are  you  the  supposed  lady  who  was  taken  from 
Burns’  stage-coach  yesterday?” 

“Yes,  sir — the  same.” 

“The  Red  Angel  chief,  Captain  Hyena,  captured 
you?”  ' 

“Yes;  for  in  some  way  he  either  penetrated  my  dis- 
guise, or  had  a spy  upon  my  actions,  and  knew  that  I 
had  the  money.  He  forced  me  to  go  with  him,  and 


The  Death-lottery.  71 

when  we  were  pursued  by  the  lieutenant  and  his  men, 
he  beat  them  off. 

“Then  we  were  hidden  in  these  hills  when  you  three 
gentlemen  rode  by  within  a few  feet  of  us,  and,  dis- 
covering the  lieutenant  down  on  the  prairie,  you  went 
rapidly  to  his  aid,  while  Captain  Kit  carried  me  on  with 
him.  Whether  it  was  that  they  did  not  deem  it  pos- 
sible for  me  to  escape  or  not,  I cannot  tell;  but  I didi 
make  my  escape  last  night,  took  my  satchel  of  money 
from  the  spot  I saw  the  chief  hide  it,  and  left  the  camp, 
to  be  pursued  and  overtaken,  as  you  saw.” 

“And  these  men  meant  to  kill  you,  too?” 

“Yes,  sir,  and  go  back  and  tell  their  captain  that  B 
escaped,  while  they  meant  to  divide  the  money  between 
them.” 

“The  cutthroats!  Well,  Kendrick,  you  have  had  a 
rough  time  and  a close  call  from  death.  We  went  to 
the  aid  of  the  lieutenant,  and  he  told  us  what  had  hap- 
pened to  the  coach,  so  as  soon  as  we  had  gotten  him  in 
shape  to  go  on  to  the  fort,  we  took  the  Hyena’s  trail, 
and  were  following  it  when  a shot  fired  some  time  back 
caused  us  to  leave  our  horses  and  come  to  the  top  of 
this  ridge.” 


72  The  Death-lottery. 

“It  was  the  rifle-shot  that  brought  my  horse  down.” 

“Doubtless,  and  when  we  got  here  we  saw  your  gal- 
lant race  for  life.  But  these  fellows  have  left  you  a 
horse  there,  I see,  and  we  will  go  on  to  the  fort  with 
you,  for  you  carry  a valuable  package  as  I know,  and 
important  despatches,  too.”  , . 

A fire  was  then  built  over  beyond  the  ridge,  and, 
after  enjoying  a good  meal,  the  party  started  off  cm) 
the  way  to  the  fort,  Kirk  Kendrick  mounted  upon 
Jake’s  horse,  and  happy  that  his  story  had  held  good 
throughout,  and  that  he  would  not  be  suspected  a$ 
having  allied  himself  to  Captain  Kit,  the  Red  Angel 
chief. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

i 

THE  DWELLERS  ON  THE  PLAINS. 

The  gallant  commandant  of  Fort  Platte  certainly  hatl 
his  hands  full,  with  the  Indians  constantly  ready  to 
make  trouble,  the  Red  Angels  always  haunting  the 
trails  to  rob  and  murder,  and  only  a small  force  with 
which  to  keep  down  the  numerous  foes  that  beset  him. 

The  fort  was  well  situated  for  defense  and  for  of- 
fense,  for  troops  could  be  sent  from  it  to  any  point 
where  danger  threatened,  and  its  garrison  was  kept 
constantly  on  the  qui  vive,  while  the  cavalry  were  on 
the  march  five  days  out  of  the  week. 

The  chief  of  scouts,  and  who  was  at  the  head  of  half 
a score  crack  plainsmen,  was  Buffalo  Bill.  Day  and 
night  he  was  on  the  move,  scouting  into  the  Indian 
country  and  along  the  trails. 

Will  Powell — Broncho  Bill — was  a dweller  upon  his 
ranch  in  Texas,  a long  distance  from  the  fort ; but  he 
Was  often  wont  to  visit  his  brother,  the  surgeon-scout  at 


74  The  Dwellers  On  the  Plains. 

the  post.  All  the  Powells  were  close  friends  of  Buf- 
falo Bill. 

When  Kirk  Kendrick  found  himself  in  the  company 
of  the  three  daring  men,  he  no  longer  feared  the  outlaw) 
band,  even  did  Captain  Kit  come  with  his  entire  force 
of  cutthroats. 

As  the  four  men,  Kendrick  still  in  his  feminine  at- 
tire, neared  the  fort,  Buffalo  Bill  said : 

“Boys,  I will  branch  off  here  for  Prairie  Rest  Ranch, 
to  visit  Major  Monkton,  and  come  on  to-night  to  the 
fort.  If  there  is  no  one  at  the  ranch  excepting  the 
cowboys,  I will  come  on  to  the  fort,  for,  as  you  know, 

I am  determined  to  carry  out  the  plan  I suggested 
about  going  to  the  Indian  country." 

“No,  no,  Bill;  reckless  as  you  are,  you  must  never 
do  that,”  protested  Night  Hawk  warmly. 

“So  say  I !”  as  earnestly  rejoined  Broncho  Bill. 

“Well,  we  will  talk  it  over  when  I come  to  the  fort." 

The  scout  rode  on  his  way  alone,  leaving  the  brothers 
and  the  courier  to  go  on  to  the  fort. 

A ride  of  several  hours  brought  him  in  sight  of  one 
of  the  most  comfortable  ranches  at  that  time  on  the 
plains.  It  had  really  the  appearance  of  a 9tockade  gafr. 


75 


The  Dwellers  On  the  Plains. 

rison,  or  fort,  and  was  delightfully  situated  upon  an 
eminence  overhanging  the  river,  and  surrounded  with 
a grove  of  timber. 

The  hill  sloped  gently  down  from  the  stockade  fence 
to  the  prairie  upon  three  sides,  and  upon  the  fourth 
was  the  .river,  so  that  the  place  was  well  guarded 
against  surprise. 

The  pens  for  the  cattle,  in  case  of  danger,  were  large 
and  comfortable,  stacks  of  hay  were  visible  in  quantity, 
and  a row  of  small  cabins  were  near,  where  lived  the 
“help”  of  Major  Monkton,  and  which  help  had  once 
been  his  slaves  in  the  sunny  South,  but  had  followed 
their  dearly  loved  master  to  the  land  of  the  setting 
sun. 

A fine  garden,  a field  of  corn,  another  of  wheat,  and 
a large  herd  of  cattle,  a flock  of  sheep,  a number  of 
hogs,  and  a band  of  ponies,  showed  that  the  master  had 
some  wealth,  and  was  a most  thorough  manager,  de- 
termined to  have  about  him  even  luxuries  in  his  far- 
away home. 

Among  the  major’s  “curiosities/’  as  the  other  ranch- 
ers called  his  comforts,  were  his  cowboys.  These  were 
a band  of  twelve  or  fifteen  negroes,  perfect  horsemen, 


! 


j6  The  Dwellers  On  the  Plains. 

crack-shots,  clad  in  buckskin,  armed  to  the  teeth,  and 
brave  as  lions. 

Several  of  these  black  cowboys  were  guarding  the 
cattle  on  the  prairie  as  the  scout  rode  up,  and  they 
greeted  him  in  a way  that  showed  how  highly  they 
respected  the  man. 

“The  major  at  home*  Zip?”  asked  Buffalo  Bill,  ad- 
dressing the  tall  young  Hercules  who  was  the  “cap- 
tain”  of  the  little  band  of  colored  comrades. 

“No,  sah;  but  Missy  Janette  am  dere,”  answered 

Zip. 

“Well,  I will  ride  on  and  see  her.  Any  news  of  the 
Indians  ?” 

“Dey  is  said  to  be  troublesome  up  north  o’  here, 
sah.” 

“Well,  I am  going  north  to-morrow,  and  I will  find 
out  just  what  they  are  about,  Zip;  but  keep  a bright 
lookout  at  all  times,  for  these  are  perilous  times,  and 
those  Red  Angels  are  as  much  deserving  of  watching 
as  the  redskins.” 

“Yas,  sah,  I thinks  they  is  bad  as  de  Injuns;  but  you 
know  ’em  pretty  well,  sah,  as  you  was  deir  prisoner.” 

The  scout  then  rode  on  up  to  the  ranch  and  dis- 


The  Dwellers  On  the  Plains.  77 

mounted  in  front  of  the  major’s  cabin.  It  was  a log 
house,  with  four  large  rooms  in  it,  a piazza,  and  there 
was  about  it  an  air  of  refinement  in  spite  of  its  rude 
exterior.  Flower-beds  were  visible  here  and  there, 
vines  ran  up  the  posts  that  supported  the  piazza  roof, 
and  curtains  were  seen  at  the  windows,  while  a cozy, 
homelike  air  rested  upon  all. 

As  Buffalo  Bill  dismounted  from  his  horse,  a little 
negro  boy,  knowing  that  he  was  safe  for  a reward, 
came  and  took  the  bridle,  while  he  said : 

“Missy  Janette  sleep  in  de  hammock,  sah,  an’  massa 

am  gone  up  de  ribber  wid  de  boys,  sah.” 

' . • . ✓ : ; 

The  scout,  with  a pleasant  word  to  the  negro  boy, 
passed  around  the  corner  of  the  cabin  where  he  knew 
the  hammock  to  be,  and  came  upon  a picture  worthy 
of  an  artist’s  pencil. 

In  the  slightly  swinging  hammock — a home-made 
affair  of  grass  and  shucks — reclined  a young  girl  of 
great  beauty.  She  was  sleeping  sweetly,  and  yet,  with 
the  closed  eyes,  the  face  was  full  of  expression  and 
sunshine,  for  a smile  played  upon  her  lips,  as  though  she 
was  dreaming  of  some  happy  scene. 

She  was  dressed  in  white,  a sun-hat,  evidently  made 


78  The  Dwellers  On  the  Plains. 

by  the  same  negro  artist  that  had  manufactured  the 
hammock,  lay  on  the  ground  near  her. 

“It  seems  a shame  to  waken  her,”  whispered  the 
scout. 

Perhaps  it  was  his  presence,  but  as  he  spoke  she 
opened  her  eyes,  and,  with  a blush,  sprung  to  her  feet 
and  greeted  him. 

“Oh,  Mr.  Cody!  where  have  you  been  this  long 
time?”  she  asked. 

“I  told  you  before  I started,  Janette,  that  Will  Pow- 
ell  was  coming  up  to  the  fort  for  a hunt  with  George 
and  myself,  and  that  is  where  I have  been ; but  I have 
considerable  to  tell  you  about  it,”  and  Buffalo  Bill  told 
his  young  ward  of  his  finding  the  young  officer  lying 
with  a broken  leg  under  his  dead  horse,  and  what  had 
followed,  to  all  of  which  the  maiden  listened  with 
breathless  attention. 

“But,  Janette,  there  is  something  else  to  tell  you,” 
he  said,  when  she  had  commented  upon  his  adventures. 

“Nothing  to  bring  you  into  peril  again,  I hope,  Mr. 
Cody,”  she  said. 

“As  for  that,  Janette,  my  life  is  a daily  peril;  but 


The  Dwellers  On  the  Plains.  79 

what  I wish  to  say  is  that  I will  have  to  leave  you  for 
a few  weeks.”  's 

“Where  are  you  going?'’  she  asked. 

“That  I cannot  tell  you;  but  I feel  that  my  duty 
calls  me  away  for  some  little  time.  The  major  has 
gone  up  the  river,  I hear.” 

“Yes,  he  went  with  some  of  his  cowboys  hunting, 
and  also  to  make  Cousin  Paul  a visit.  You  know  his 
father  helped  my  father  once,  and  when  Paul  became 
an  orphan,  papa  adopted  him,  and  it  thus  went  on  until 
he  got  into  speculations  which  swamped  our  fortune. 

“Paul  left,  declaring  he  would  yet  pay  back  all  he 
had  caused  father  to  lose,  and  I never  heard  of  him 
again  until  I met  him  here  as  a ranchero,  where  poor 
papa  was  coming  with  the  little  he  had  left,  to  build 
a new  home  for  us  in  this  wild  land.  But  is  it  not 
strange  that  Paul,  my  adopted  brother,  should  turn  out 
to  be  Major  Monkton’s  nephew?” 

“Yes,  but  strange  things  occur  daily  in  our  lives, 
Janette,  which,  if  told  in  novels,  would  be  set  down  as 
utter  fiction.” 

“Yes,  that  is  true,  for  just  to  think  that  dear  old 
Major  Morkton,  who  had  so  long  lived  alone  in  the 


8o 


The  Dwellers  On  the  Plains. 


world,  now  has  an  adopted  daughter  in  me,  and  a son 
in  Paul,  for  the  major  says  he  intends  to  make  his 
nephew  his  son  and  heir,  and  that  he  is  to  take  the 
name  of  Monkton;  but  here  they  come  now.  The 
major  must  have  met  Paul  on  the  way  here.” 

As  Janette  spoke,  two  horsemen  rode  up  to  the  cabin 
and  dismounted.  They  were  both  men  calculated  to 
attract  attention  anywhere. 

One  was  a man  well  advanced  in  years,  with  a noble 
face,  a trifle  saddened  perhaps,  and  long  white  hair  and 
beard.  This  was  Major  Monkton,  the  one-time  South- 
ern planter,  who  had  had  sorrow  and  reverses  that  had 
made  him  glad  to  seek  a new  home  in  the  wild  Far 
{West. 

The  other  was  a young  man,  with  a winning,  hand- 
some face,  black  hair  and  mustache,  dark,  expressive 
eyes,  and  a look  of  firm  resolve  to  do  and  dare  any- 
thing. He  was  tall,  well  formed,  strong  as  a lien,  up- 
right as  an  Indian,  and  graceful  in  every  movement. 

Both  men  were  dressed  in  border  attire,  and  armed 
with  rifles  and  revolvers,  and  their  horses  were  fine 
animals  that  had  go  and  endurance  in  them. 

“Well,  Buffalo  Bill,  you  are  keeping  my  little  girl 


The  Dwellers  On  the  Plains.  81 

from  being  lonesome,  I am  glad  to  see,”  said  the  major, 
in  his  hospitable  way,  as  he  advanced  and  grasped  the 
hand  of  his  visitor,  while  his  nephew  did  likewise. 

Then  all  adjourned  to  supper,  and  old  Aunt  Phoebe 
had  certainly  done  her  best  as  was  her  wont. 

“To  git  su’thin’  ter  make  de  gemmens  eat  wid  de 
relish  ob  a wolf,”  as  she  expressed  it. 

To  Major  Monkton  and  his  nephew  the  scout  made 
known  his  intended  departure  upon  a secret  mission, 
though  he  did  not  state  just  what  that  was.  That  it 
was  full  of  peril  they  did  not  doubt,  and,  anxious  to 
find  out  what  it  was  he  intended  to  do,  Janette  called 
Paul  aside  and  said : 

“Now,  Paul,  you  are  as  good  as  a Philadelphia  law- 

o V 

yer  at  questions,  so  try  and  trip  Mr.  Cody  up  and  see 
if  we  cannot  find  out  just  what  he  intends  to  do.” 

“Til  try,  Janie,  but  that  same  Mr.  Cody  is  as  shrewd 
as  the  alleged  Philadelphia  lawyer,  and  is  not  to  be. 
tripped ; but  I’ll  do  what  I can,  for  I confess  to  a curi- 
osity myself  to  know  what  he  is  after.” 

And  in  an  ingenious  way  the  young  ranchero  began 
his  task,  to  find,  when  the  scout  arose  to  take  his  leave, 
that  he  knew  no  more  than  he  had  before  known  about 


82 


The  Dwellers  On  the  Plains. 

the  affair,  and  that  the  expedition  was  a secret  which 
was  not  to  be  revealed  until  the  scout  felt  it  should  be. 

A grasp  of  the  hands,  and  Buffalo  Bill  mounted  his 
horse  and  rode  away  in  the  darkness,  leaving  anxious 
hearts  behind  him  at  the  unknown  danger  he  was  to 
face. 

As  he  rode  along  upon  the  prairie  he  suddenly  came 
to  a halt.  It  was  a cloudy  night,  but  in  the  eastward 
there  was  a streak  of  clear  sky  close  to  the  horizon, 
and  the  rising  moon  was  brightening  it  like  a shield. 
Upon  this  bright  spot  were  photographed  two  horse- 
men. 

They  were  riding  in  the  same  direction  that  the  scout 
was  going,  and  they  came  to  a halt  just  on  the  ridge 
and  dismounted.  That  they  were  upon  the  trail  he  was 
to  follow  he  was  well  aware. 

They  were  white  men,  too,  and  not  Indians,  he  dis- 
covered. If  honest  white  men,  no  matter  what  their 
haste,  they  would  not  have  passed  Monkton  Ranch 
without  stopping.  That  they  had  passed  it  was  cer- 
tain, as  they  were  going  along  the  trail  that  led  by  its 
gates.  - - 

"It  looks  to  me  as  though  those  fellows  h->d  been 


The  Dwellers  On  the  Plains.  83 

on  my  trail  and  were  going  to  ambush  me,”  thought 
the  scout.  “They  waited  outside  till  they  heard  the 
major  call  to  the  stables  for  my  horse,  and  then  they 
rode  on  ahead.  Well,  I am  glad  it  is  cloudy,  and  I am 
thankful  for  that  little  bit  of  clear  sky  that  gave  me 
a glance  at  them..  Now  to  see  if  I cannot  play  to 
thwart  them.” 

So  saying,  Buffalo  Bill  dismounted.  First  he  took 
off  his  boots  and  put  on  a pair  of  moccasins,  taken  from 
his  saddle-pouch.  Then  he  took  a woolen  shirt  from 
the  same  leather  pocket,  and,  cutting  a quantity  of 
grass  with  his  bowie-knife,  he  stuffed  it  full. 

Drawing  off  his  coat,  he  placed  it  on  the  stuffed 
shirt,  and  fastened  together  with  his  lariat  the  dummy 
figure,  holding  it  upright  in  the  saddle  with  his  rifle, 
which  he  tied  in  position,  putting  his  sombrero  on  top. 

With  the  boots  then  tied  in  the  stirrups,  the  dummy 
certainly  looked  the  man  at  a few  paces  distant  in  the 
uncertain  light. 

“Now,  old  horse,  go  on  and  keep  the  trail,  and  par- 
don me  if  I tread  on  your  heels,”  said  the  scout. 

The  intelligent  brute  seemed  to  understand  that 
something  was  wrong  which  he  had  not  discovered,  andl 


84  The  Dwellers  On  the  Plains. 

he  moved  off  on  the  trail  at  a swinging  walk,  the  scout 
keeping  close  upon  his  heels,  stepping  with  him  like  a 
soldier  marching,  and  holding  on  to  his  tail  to  retain 
his  position. 

With  his  body  bent  forward,  and  his  right  hand 
grasping  a revolver,  Buffalo  Bill  moved  on,  the  horse 
keeping  the  trail  well,  and  heading  directly  for  the  spot 
where  his  master  hacl  last  seen  the  two  horsemen. 

To  a close  observer,  even  one  toward  which  the 
horse  was  coming,  it  would  not  be  observed  that  he  had 
a little  game  to  play  that  would  thwart  a hidden  foe. 

The  whole  thing  looked  so  natural  at  a little  dis- 
tance, and  in  the  semidarkness,  that  an  Indian  even 
would  have  been  deceived. 

On  toward  the  rise  in  the  prairie  the  horse  went,  and 
soon  the  decoy  was  within  twenty  paces  of  the  ridge. 
Then  came  a click,  followed  immediately  by  a shot,  and 
a thud  told  that  the  bullet  had  struck  the  dummy  fair, 
while  a pull  on  the  lariat  by  the  scout’s  hand  caused 
the  stuffed  form  to  fall  from'  the  saddle,  and  a word 
brought  the  horse  to  a halt. 

“Got  him!  ef  I hain’t,  durn  me!  Bully  fer  me;  I 
hes  kilt  Buffalo  Bill,  ther  greatest  terror  on  these 


The  Dwellers  On  the  Plains.  85 

roarin’  prairies!  Now  fer  his  scalp  an’  ther  dust!” 
shouted  a voice,  seemingly  wild  with  glee,  and  two 
forms  arose  above  the  ridge,  and  one  advanced  rapidly 
toward  the  spot,  utterly  reckless  of  caution,  in  his  joy 

at  having  killed,  as  he  believed,  the  famous  scout. 

* 

Suddenly  a tall  form  sprang  away  from  the  side  of 
the  horse,  and  a voice  cried : 

“Don’t  count  your  chickens  before  they  are 
hatched!” 

With  the  words  a shot  rang  out,  and  a death-cry  al- 
most mingled  with  it,  while  in  a shriek  came  the  words : 
“Kill  him,  Dead  Knife,  for  he  hev  played  it  on  me !” 
With  the  words  the  man  sank  down,  while  his  com- 
rade some  distance  behincj.  him,  cried  : 

“Dead  Knife  Jim  are  playin’  hands  up  jest  now. 
Here,  Bill,  ther  one  fin  yer  left  me  are  p’intin’  up  ter 
glory,  and  don’t  yer  forgit  it !” 

Then  up  above  the  head  of  the  speaker  went  a single 
hand,  while  the  scout,  still  standing  as  he  had  when  he 

fired  the  fatal  shot,  called  out; 

< % 

“Is  that  you,  Dead  Knife  Jirn?” 

“It  are,  Pard  Bill.” 

“Is  it  war  or  peace  between  us  ?” 


86 


The  Dwellers  On  the  Plains 


“Peace  every  time,  you  bet,  Bill.” 

“All  right;  are  you  alone?” 

“Only  that  durned  fool  gerloot  yer  jist  made  cold 
meat  of,  ef  he  are  dead.” 

“He  is  dead;  I shot  him  through  the  heart,”  was  the 
cool,  confident  reply  of  the  man,  who  stood  ten  paces 
from  the  one  he  had  fired  upon. 

“Waal,  you  knows,  Bill,  jist  whar  your  lead  goes 
when  yer  slings  it  out  o’  ther  iron;  but  don’t  yer  be- 
lieve thet  I put  up  this  leetle  job  agin’  yer.” 

“Come  here;  but  come  with  your  arm  up,”  said  the 
scout,  and  the  man  advanced  toward  him,  still  holding 
his  one  arm  above  his  head. 

- “Well,  Jim,  you  are  in  bad  company,  as  usual,”  said 
Buffalo  Bill,  gazing  into  the  face  of  the  man  as  he  ap- 
proached. 

“I  hain’t  goin’  ter  lie,  fer  I was  in  bad  comp’ny,  but 
I is  in  good  comp’ny  now,  seein’  as  you  is  my  pard  at 
ther  present,  an’  Lanky  thar  hev  gone  ter  j’ine  ther 
dead  folks.” 

“You  are  complimentary  at  least,  Dead  Knife;  but 
I am  surprised  to  find  you  lying  in  ambush  for  me.” 

“Pard  Bill,  you  is  on  an’  you  is  off  thar,  fer  I was, 


The  Dwellers  On  the  Plains.  87 

an’  I wasn’t.  Now  let  me  tell  yer  thet  when  ther  band 
tuk  you  prizner,  I were  your  inimy,  an’  I showed  it 
by  try’ in’  ter  run  my  knife  inter  yer  back,  but  I were  not 
soon  enough,  an’  got  yer  bullet  in  ther  arm  I uster  hev 
on  this  side.  Now,  you  were  -so  good  ter  me  thet  I 
loved  yer  fer  it.” 

“And  that  is  why  I wonder  so  that  you,  after  pro- 
fessing friendship,  should  attempt  to  kill  me.” 

“I  didn’t  do  it,  Pard  Bill.  Yer  see,  ther  chief  offered 
big  money  to  ther  man  as  would  fetch  in  your  scalp 
ter  camp.  Lanky  agreed  fer  ther  job,  an’  I,  knowin’ 
he  were  a bad  ’un,  agreed  ter  go  with  him.  We  sot 
out  ter  onc’t,  an’  struck  yer  trail  with  thet  o’  ther  Pow- 
ell brothers,  Night  Hawk,  an’  Broncho  Bill,  along  with 
ther  gal  as  dug  out  so  lively  from,  our  camp. 

“Now,  Lanky  said  it  were  bad  enough  to  tackle  you, 
an’  he  were  not  lookin’  fer  any  extra  music  in  ther 
shape  o’  yer  pards,  an’  we  were  about  ter  postpone 
ther  job  when  we  see  you  separate  an’  go  alone.  Then 
we  waited  an’  tackled  your  trail  and  followed  it  up  to 
ther  Monkton  Ranch. 

“We  know’d  yer’d  not  stay  long,  so  we  waited,  an* 
heerd  the  major  callin’  ther  nigger  ter  fetch  yer  horse; 


88 


The  Dwellers  On  the  Plains. 


Then  we  corned  right  here,  fer  we  know’d  as  how  you’d 
take  this  trail.  We  tuk  our  horses  over  ther  rise,  an’ 
lay  quiet  ontil  we  seen  yer  cornin’.  Now,  Bill,  I hain’t 
one  ter  blow  my  own  horn  o’  praise ; but  I corned  with 
Lanky  ter  save  yer.”  r? 

"To  save  me?” 

"Yas,  Bill.” 

"By  ambushing  me?” 

"Did  ye  hear  two  guns  go  off  ?”  :V 

"No.” 

"Hain’t  my  pistols  here  loaded  full  ?” 

"I  will  see,”  and  after  scrutiny,  the  scout  said: 

"They  are  loaded.” 

"Did  yer  hear  a click  sound  just  afore  ther  gun 
tooted  ?” 

"I  certainly  did  hear  the  click  of  a hammer,  as 
though  a weapon  had  failed  to  discharge.” 

"Thet  were  my  leetle  gun.” 

"Ah ! you  tried  to  fire  at  me,  then  ?” 

"You  is  wrong,  Buffalo  Bill,  fer  my  revolver  were 
aimed  at  Lanky.” 

"At  your  comrade  ?”  J 

, "Fact.” 


89 


The  Dwellers  On  the  Plains. 

“Why  so?” 

“Waal,  I hain’t  no  love  fer  ther  man,  an’  I hes  fef 
you,  an’  I jist  intended  ter  put  a bullet  in  his  brainpan 
afore  he  shooted  you.  He  thoughted  I fired  at  you,  an’ 
cussed  at  my  gun  fer  missin’,  an’  fired  right  arter. 
Waal,  you  knows  what  follered,  an’  thet  are  all  I hev 
ter  say,  Bill,  so  jist  do  as  you  thinks  best.” 

“Jim,  I believe  your  story,  in  spite  of  your  being 
such  a devil,  and  will  trust  you.  Here  is  my  hand  on 
it,  and  I thank  you  for  your  effort  to  save  my  life.” 

“Don’t  mention  the  circumstance,  Bill,  but  believe 
thet  Dead  Knife  Jim  are  your  pard  at  heart,  even  tho’ 
yer  did  git  one  o’  his  arms,  an’  he  are  a outlaw  o’  ther 
band  o’  Red  Angels.” 

“And  now  which  way,  Jim?” 

“Yer  don’t  intend  ter  run  me  in,  an’  hang  me  then 
at  the  fort  fer  ther  eddifycation  o’  ther  sojers,  an’  as 
a lesson  ter  sinners  in  gin’ral  ?” 

.“Not  I.” 

“I  are  free  ter  git,  then  ?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then  I’ll  git,  as  soon  as  I hev  tuk  ther  waluables  off 
o’  Lanky,  fer  ther  good  o’  his  heirs,  an’  then  I’m  goin>' 


90  The  Dwellers  On  the  Plains. 

straight  back  ter  camp  an’  tell  our  Hyena  cap’n  thet 
ther  lamb  eat  ther  wolf  he  sent  to  eat  ther  lamb. 

“Oh,  Bill,  you  is  a howlin’  terror,  an’  I loves  yer 
fer  ther  git-up-an’-git  yer  hes  in  yer,  when  it  comes  ter 
gunpowder  music.  Don’t  let  me  detain  yer,  fer  I’m 
off  ter  camp,  an’  I’ll  give  ther  coyotes  a treat  o’  pickin’ 
Lanky’s  bones,  an’  they’ll  find  him  a tough  one.” 

“Don’t  speak  ill  of  the  dead,  Jim.  I think,  as  he  has 
been  your  comrade,  although  in  crime,  you  owe  it  to 
him  to  bury  him.” 

“Bill,  I don’t  owe  him  nothin’,  an’  as  I hes  but  one 
hand,  I hain’t  goin’  ter  make  myself  tired  diggin’ 
graves.  Let  ther  wolves  hev  him,  an’  his  bones  will 
rest  heur  as  ther  monument  o’  a durned  fool  thet  woke 
up  ther  wrong  passenger.  Good  night,  Bill,  onless  yer 
wants  ter  stay  an’  see  what  Lanky  hes  got  in  his 
pockets.” 

With  an  expression  of  disgust,  the  scout  turned 
away,  undressed  his  dummy,  that  had  served  him  so 
well,  and  mounted  his  horse.  Then  he  said : 

“Jim,  I don’t  wish  to  have  to  shoot  you  some  day, 
for  I owe  you  a number  of  kindnesses  I can  never  re- 
pay. Neither  do  I wish  to  see  you  hanged  nchly  as 


Tlie  Dwellers  On  the  Plains.  91 

you  deserve  it,  so  take  my  advice,  give  up  the  sinful 
life  you  lead,  and  try  and  become  honest.” 

“Bill,  I hes  ther  thing  under  consideration,  for  I hes 
got  a leetle  dust  laid  up,  enough  ter  fit  me  out  in  a 
snug  ranch,  an’  I may  turn  honest  afore  yer  knows  it, 
an’  take  ter  teachin’  an  Injun  Sunday  school,  fer  them 
redskins  need  convartin’  bad.” 

“Good  night,  Dead  Knife,  and  carry  out  your  idea, 
is  my  advice,  for  otherwise  you’ll  hang  yet.” 

“Good  night,  Bill,  an’  good  luck  ter  yer,  onless  yer 
shoots  at  me,”  called  out  the  strange  man,  as  the  scout 
rode  away  at  a rapid  canter. 


% • 

..  .....  ;■  . : . 

.X  * A 

CHAPTER  VII. 

STARTLING  TIDINGS. 

Brevet-Major  Benteen,  the  handsome  commandant 
of  the  dangerous  outpost  where  Buffalo  Bill  was  chief 
of  scouts,  sat  in  his  cozy  quarters,  engaged  in  con- 
versation with  several  officers.  The  lateness  of  the 
hour,  for  it  was  long  after  midnight,  proved  that  the 
topic  of  conversation  was  one  of  importance. 

The  fact  was  that  Night  Hawk  Powell  had  arrived 
late  that  afternoon,  accompanied  by  his  brother, 
Broncho  Bill,  and  Kirk  Kendrick,  the  courier,  the  lat- 
ter in  disguise. 

Kendrick  had  told  his  story,  and  then  Night  Hawk 
had  his  to  tell  of  what  he  knew  of  the  courier’s  adven- 
ture, and  more.  He  had  told  how  he,  with  his  brother 
and  Buffalo  Bill,  invaded  the  Indian  country  and  made 
some  discoveries  there  that  were  of  vast  importance. 

The  coming  in  of  Lieutenant  Clark  with  a broken 
leg,  the  killing  of  a soldier,  the  attack  on  the  stage- 
coach and  death  of  the  driver,  with  the  capture  and 


Startling  Tidings.  93 

* 

escape  of  the  courier,  all  had  great  weight  with  Major 
Benteen  and  his  officers,  for  these  acts  showed  how  bold 
were  the  Red  Angels,  and  how  dangerous. 

Calling  his  officers  together  after  the  evening  duties 
at  the  post  were  over,  Major  Benteen  sat  with  them  in 
council  until  the  night  had  grown  old.  Suddenly  a 
tap  came  at  the  door. 

“Come  in,”  called  out  the  major. 

The  door  swung  open,  and  Buffalo  Bill  appeared. 

“Ah,  Cody,  it  is  you, -be  seated,”  said  the  major, 
who,  with  the  other  officers  present,  seemed  to  be  glad 
of  the  coming  of  the  scout.  “I  am  glad  you  have  come, 
for  we  were  trying  to  unravel  a hard  knot.” 

“The  orderly  told  me,  Major  Benteen,  that  you  had 
not  retired,  so  I took  the  liberty  of  looking  in  on  you.” 

“Delighted  that  you  did ; but  where  from  ?” 

“The  Monkton  Ranch.” 

“I  hope  you  will  not  come  to  grief  some  night  in 
your  jaunts.” 

“I  nearly  did  so  to-night,  major,”  and  the  scout  told 
the  story  of  his  adventure. 

All  listened  with  surprise  and  interest,  while  Major 
Benteen  said : 


94  Startling  Tidings. 

“Another  feather  in  your  scalp,  Cod>,  to  kill  that 
fiend ” 

“I  hate  to  win  feathers  by  taking  life,  major,”  was 
the  quiet  reply. 

“True,  but  it  was  a game  where  it  was  your  life  or 
his;  but  I am  sorry  you  let  his  comrade  go.” 

“I  could  not  do  otherwise,  major,  for  that  is  the 
man  who  warned  Captain  Burt  of  the  Indian  attack, 
and  several  times  he  has  saved  my  life.” 

“True,  and  his  friendship  for  you  seems  strange, 
when  you  broke  his  arm  with  your  bullet.” 

“There  is  no  accounting  for  friendship,  sir,  and, 
strange  as  it  may  seem,  I have  a real  liking  for  that 
same  Dead  Knife  Jim ; but,  to  change  the  subject  from 
myself,  major,  I suppose  your  courier,  Kendrick,  re- 
ported his  strange  adventures?” 

“Yes,  and  it  was  remarkable  how  he  escaped  from 
Kit’s  Angels;  but  he  owes  it  to  you.” 

“And  Surgeon  Powell’s  brothers,  sir;  but  did  George 
tell  you  5f  our  run  into  the  Indian  country  ?” 

“He  dttd,  and  said  that  you  had  a full  report  to  make 
tome.” 


Startling  Tidings.  95 

**1  can  soon  tell  you  all,  sir,  and  then  what  decision1 
1 have  come  to.” 

“You  are  willing  to  speak  out  before  those  present, 
Cody?” 

“Yes,  sir,  certainly;  though  it  is  best  to  keep  it  secret 
from  the  soldiers  and  all  others  in  the  fort.” 

“I  will  do  as  you  deem  best  in  the  matter ; but  now 
let  us  hear  what  you  have  discovered  on  your  trip 
to  the  Indian  country.” 

“In  the  first  place,  sir,  as  you  know,  we  went  upon  a 
hunt,  with  the  intention  to  make  any  discoveries  we 
could  regarding  the  redskins  and  th§  Red  Angels.” 

“Yes,  and  although  I knew  you  were  going  really  for 
the  pleasure  of  a hunt,  I did  not  doubt  that  you  would 
find  news  of  importance  of  some  kind.” 

“Well,  major,  I made  a discovery,  and  it  was  in  this 
way : Will  saw  a redskin  peering  out  of  a thicket  and 
shot  him.  The  report  called  George  and  myself  to  the 
spot,  for  we  were  in  a dangerous  position,  and  we 
found  Will  bemoaning  the  fact  that  he  had  shot  a sick 
Indian. 

“The  redskin  was  not  dead,  and  Will  was  bending 
over  him,  trying  to  do  what  he  could  for  him,  as  the 


96  Startling  Tidings. 

redskin  had  been  hiding  from  us  and  not  trying  to 
shoot  us.  A glance  showed  us  what  was  the  matter 

. with  him,  major.” 

( 

“And  what  was  that,  Cody  ?” 

“ Smallpox !” 

The  officers  all  started,  and  involuntarily  they  moved 
farther  off  from  the  scout,  who  said,  with  a smile : 

“TJave  no  fear,  gentlemen,  for  you  may  remember 
that  I have  a secret  camp  in  the  hills,  where  I had  a 
hidden  stock  of  clothes,  provisions,  blankets,  and  am- 
; munition,  and  we  went  straight  there,  after  leaving 
the  Indian,  and  changed  our  attire  throughout,  besides 
we  have  all  been  vaccinated,  and  used  every  prevern 
ive  in  our  power  against  contagion.” 

“I  know  you  are  careful,  Cody,  but  then  this  is  such 
a fearful  disease,”  said  the  major.  “Permit  me  to  say 
that  I think  Broncho  Will  did  the  poor  devil  a favor  to 
put  him  out  of  his  misery.” 

“He  certainly  did,  sir,  for  the  redskin  was  a loath- 
some sight,  and,  knowing  that  the  disease  was  con- 
tagious, seemed  to  take  a delight,  while  dying,  in  the 
.bought  that  we  would  contract  it  from  him  and  die, 
too.” 


Startling  Tidings.  97 

“And  did  you  see  him  die?” 

“Oh,  yes,  sir,  for  I would  not  leave  a dog  to  die 
alone.  I sent  George  and  Will  on  to  my  secret  camp, 
and  then  had  a talk  with  the  redskin  in  his  own  tongue. 
He  told  me  that  the  villages  of  his  people  were  be- 
ing ravaged  with  the  disease,  hundreds  being  down 
with  it,  and  hundreds  dying,  and  that  their  medicine- 
men were  unable  to  do  them  any  good,  while,  to  excuse 
themselves,  these  redskin  quack  doctors  told  them  that 
the  Great  Spirit  was  cursing  them  because  they  did  not 
strike  a severe  blow  against  the  whites. 

“The  Indian  was  partly  delirious,  and  told  me  more 
than  he  intended  to,  for  as  I spoke  in  the  Sioux  tongue, 
I led  him  to  believe  that  I was  a comrade  and  a 
friend.” 

“And  you  thereby  made  some  important  discovery  ?” 

“Yes,  Major  Benteen,  I made  the  discovery  that  the 
medicine-men  were  instigating  an  attack  upon  the  set- 
tlements, ranches,  and  this  fort.” 

“The  deuce  they  are!”  cried  the  major. 

“They  certainly  are  planning  such  an  attack,  sir; 
and  more,  are  getting  together  what  warriors  they  can, 
and  are  anxious  to  bring  upon  the  whites  not  only 


98  Startling  Tidings. 

fire  and  scalping-knife,  but  also  the  disease  that  is  now! 
a curse  in  their  villages,  for  they  will  leave  their  dead 
unburied,  allow  their  wounded  to  fall  into  the  hands 
of  the  soldiers,  and  thus  cunningly  sow  the  seeds  of  a 
terrible  epidemic  along  the  border.” 

“My  God,  Cody,  this  is  fearful  !”  cried  Major  Ben- 
teen,  thoroughly  alive  to  the  possibilities  of  such  a 
catastrophe,  while  the  officers  who  were  present  gave 
vent  to  their  amazement  and  horror  in  very  strong 
language,  for,  though  ready  to  meet  any  foe  face  to 
face  with  weapons,  or  to  risk  ambush,  and  torture  if 
captured,  brave  as  they  were  they  shrank  from  meeting 
a foe  armed  with  the  dread  and  loathsome  disease  of 
smallpox. 

The  tidings  brought  by  Buffalo  Bill  were  certainly 
of  a most  fearful  nature,  for,  while  it  was  terrible  to 
feel  that  the  poor  Indians  were  scourged  with  a loath- 
some epidemic  which  their  greatest  medicine-men  were 
powerless  to  check  or  contend  with,  the  thought  that  it 
would  spread  from  one  village  to  another,  and  thus 
along  the  border  through  the  white  settlements  and 
forts,  was  something  that  made  the  stoutest  heart  quail 
to  contempl?  * 


Startling  Tidings.  99 

After  all  had  expressed  their  views  upon  the  sub- 
ject, Major  Benteen  turned  to  the  scout,  who  had  sat 
in  silence  after  his  startling  communication,  and  asked : 

“Well,  Cody,  what  are  we  to  do  against  this  new: 
enemy  ?” 

“I  believe  that  it  can  be  successfully  met,  sir." 

“Indeed ! but  how  ?” 

“There  is  but  one  way.” 

“And  that?" 

“To  check  the  epidemic." 

“But,  in  Heaven’s  name,  how?" 

“Well,  major,  I have  thought  of  a plan.” 

“Tell  it  to  us,  Cody,  and  if  I can  do  aught  in  the 
matter  to  carry  out  your  views,  I will  gladly  do  so.” 

“Well,  major,  from  what  I have  gleaned  from  the 
dying  Indian,  I came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  would 
be  fully  a week  before  the  warriors  started  upon  their 
raid  in  this  direction,  for  it  is  no  easy  matter  for  them 
to  get  the  requisite  force,  with  their  braves  dying  as 
they  are." 

“And  when  do  you  expect  them  to  start  ?" 

“Within  four  days,  Major  Benteen,  and  perhaps  in 
three  from  the  present  time." 


Startling  Tidings. 


ioo 

“We  have  little  time  to  lose,  then.” 

“Not  much  time  to  throw  away,  sir,  but  I hope  to 
arrive  there  in  ample  time  to  check  them.” 

“You  hope  to  arrive  where?”  asked  the  major,  em- 
phasizing every  word. 

“At  the  Indian  camp,  sir.” 

“At  the  what?” 

“At  the  Sioux  village,  major.” 

“I  do  not  quite  get  your  meaning,  Cody.” 

“Let  me  make  myself  plain,  then,  Major  Benteen.” 

“I  wish  you  would,  for  you  hint  that  you  are  going 
among  the  Indians.” 

*7  am  going,  sir,  to  the  znllage  that  is  suffering  with 
the  smallpox 

There  was  no  mistaking  these  words.  They  were 
uttered  in  the  calm  manner  habitual  to  the  scout,  and 
he  meant  just  what  he  said. 

“Are  you  mad,  Cody?” 

“No,  Major  Benteen,  I am  sane.” 

“You  cannot  be.” 

Placing  his  fingers  lightly  upon  his  pulse,  he  an- 
swered 

“My  pulse  is  normal,  major ; I feel  in  perfect  health, 


Startling  Tidings.  lot 

and  there  is  not  the  slightest  symptom  of  insanity  about 

me. 

“My  dear  Cody,  what  can  be  your  purpose  in  thus 

throwing  your  life  away,  and  what  good  will  it  do?" 

■*+ 

“Let  me  explain,  major,  my  purpose. 

“In  the  first  place,  I believe  that  I can  go  to  the 
village  camp  and  check  the  epidemic." 

“They  will  kill  you  at  sight." 

“I  must  risk  that." 

“If  the  redskins  do  not  kill  you,  the  smallpox  will." 
“I  must  take  my  chances  on  that,  too,  major.  It  is 
at  least  worth  the  trial,  and  I shall,  if  successful,  stop 
the  spread  of  the  scourge,  and  prevent  the  raid  of  the 
plague-haunted  warriors  upon  the  settlements." 

“And  this  is  why  you  go?" 

“Yes.” 

“If  you  accomplish  the  one-half,  you  will  do  incal- 
culable good.” 

“I  am  well  aware  of  that,  major." 

“And  you  do  not  fear  the  plague?” 

“I  am  not  a physician,  my  dear  major,  but  my  old 
pard  Surgeon  Powell  has  instilled  enough  medicine  in 


102  Startling  Tidings. 

me  to  make  me  feel  confident  I can  do  what  the  medi* 
cine-men  have  failed  to  do.” 

“But  tell  me,  do  you  insist  upon  this  Quixotic  act  ?** 

“I  do,  sir.” 

“And  when  do  you  start  ?” 

“To-morrow,  or  rather  to-day,  for  it  is  only  a couple 
of  hours  to  dawn.” 

“You  cannot  be  persuaded  from  making  this  sac- 
rifice?” 

“It  is  a duty,  major,  and  not  a sacrifice.” 

“By  the  flag!  but  I have  half  a mind  to  order  you 
not  to  go.” 

“No,  Major  Benteen,  you  are  not  the  man  to  stand 
between  me  and  what  I deem  to  be  my  duty.  It  is  no 
whim  of  mine,  no  seeking  after  notoriety,  that  I go; 
but  from  a stern  sense  of  duty,  in  the  belief  that  I can 
do  good.” 

“I  believe  you,  Cody,  and  if  any  man  can  accomplish 
the  task  you  propose,  you  are  that  man.  But  you  have 
to  risk  your  life,  invading  the  village  of  hostiles  who 
thirst  for  your  scalp,  and  if  the  warriors  receive  you 
with  confidence,  you’ll  have  their  medicine-men  to 
fight,  while,  if  you  escape  these  two  evils,  then  come# 


Startling  Tidings.  103 

the  fear  of  contagion,  and  the  thought  that  you  may  lie 
down  to  die  among  those  you  strive  to  serve. 

“But  go,  Cody,  and  my  prayers  will  follow  you,  and 
if  it  be  your  fate  to  fall  in  doing  the  noble  duty  you 
get  for  yourself,  then  you  will  not  be  forgotten  by  those 
you  leave  behind  you.” 

All  were  touched  by  the  kindly  spoken  words  of 
the  gallant  major,  and,  grasping  his  hand,  Buffalo  Bill 
said  in  his  quiet  way : 

“Major  Benteen,  I thank  you.  Now,  as  I wish  to 
get  what  rest  I can,  I will  say  good-by,”  and  shaking 
hands  with  all  present,  the  scout  left  the  major’s  quar- 
ters and  sought  his  own,  where  he  threw  himself  upon 
his  cot  and  was  soon  sleeping  soundly,  wholly  oblivious 
of  the  self-sacrifice  he  had  determined  to  make. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


WHAT  THE  FIRELIGHT  REVEALED, 

The  dying  redman  whom  Will  Powell  had  shot  had 
not  exaggerated  the  state  of  affairs  in  his  village,  for 
the  scourge  was  making  wild  havoc  among  his  people. 
The  village  was  a large  one,  and  its  chief,  Wolf  Fang, 
was  one  of  the  most  noted  braves  upon  the  border,  and 
a bitter  foe  to  all  whites.  He  had  a powerful  band  of 
warriors  at  his  back,  when  he  brought  them  all  into 
the  field  from  the  outlying  camps,  and  he  was  feared  by 
soldiers,  settlers,  and  outlaws  alike. 

A young  chief,  the  son  of  Loud  Thunder,  a famous 
chieftain  before  him,  he  had  partly  inherited  his  posi- 
tion, and  partly  won  it  by  his  desperate  deeds. 

Anxious  to  gain  still  greater  fame,  he  had  led  small 
bands  of  picked  braves  down  into  the  white  settlements, 
and  committed  his  depredations  almost  within  sight  of 
the  fort. 

Several  times  he  had  been  thwarted  by  Buffalo  Bil^, 


What  the  Firelight  Revealed.  105 

who  had  gained  an  inkling  of  his  intended  red  work, 
and  sent  the  warning  from  ranch  to  ranch. 

On  one  occasion  the  scout,  when  a prisoner  to  the 
Red  Angels,  had  saved  them  from  Wolf  Fang  and  his 
braves,  and  also  beaten  him  off,  aided  by  those  same 
men  of  Captain  Hyena’s  band,  when  they  were  attack- 
ing with  a fair  chance  of  success  a military  outfit  from 
the  fort,  which  they  had  besieged  and  were  overwhelm- 
ing with  their  superior  numbers. 

Under  these  circumstances,  it  will  be  seen  that  the 
scout  had  become  well  known  to  the  Sioux,  and  they 
hated  him  with  the  most  intense  hatred,  and  longed  for 
his  scalp. 

To  get  possession  of  the  scout,  the  Sioux  would 
have  contributed  a finger  each  all  around,  and  this  Buf- 
falo Bill  well  knew,  and  yet  he  calmly  set  out  from  the 
fort  to  carry  out  his  desperate  purpose. 

The  village  of  the  Wolf  Fang  was  most  charmingly 
situated,  in  the  midst  of  a fertile  hill-land,  where  crystal 
streams  glided  through  the  valley,  and  bluffs  protected 
it  from  the  chilling  winds  of  winter. 

There  was  an  abundance  of  grass  and  water  for  the 


lo 6 WHat  the  Firelight  Revealed. 

stock,  numerous  canons,  vast  quantities  of  wood,  and 
game  of  all  kinds  within  easy  reach. 

Like  a panorama  the  teepee  village  lay  before  one 
glance  of  the  eye,  from  one  end  of  the  valley,  and  here 
and  there  were  huts  built  of  bark,  or  poles,  that  were 
the  chief’s  quarters,  council  lodges  and  medicine 
lodges.  -• 

At  the  time  that  the  village  is  brought  before  the 
view  of  the  reader,  there  was  a strange  excitement,  and 
yet  a hush  resting  upon  all.  It  was  just  after  sunset, 
and  the  light  of  day  was  fading  away,  leaving  dark- 
ness in  the  valley. 

Hurrying  forms  of  half-grown  children  and  squaws 
were  seen  hastening  to  and  fro  in  silence,  and  warriors 
stalked  about  here  and  there,  and  yet  seemed  to  be  ma- 
king for  one  center,  the  grand  medicine  lodge  of  the 
village. 

The  tum-tum  of  the  Indian  drum  rolled  continuously 
from  various  teepees  where  sickness  and  death  had 
visited,  and  scattered  about  were  little  groups,  evi- 
dently belonging  to  one  family,  discussing  some  ques- 
tion of  deep  moment  to  them. 

At  length  a camp-fire  was  lighted  in  front  of  the 


What  the  Firelight  Revealed.  107 

medicine  lodge,  where  the  score  of  medicine-men  were 
assembled  under  their  leader,  Death  Killer,  an  old 
chief  whose  hair  was  white,  but  whose  herculean  frame 
was  unbent  by  the  years  that  had  passed  over  him. 

One  strange  thing  about  this  old  chief  was  that 
he  possessed  a beard,  long  and  white. 

He  was  dressed  in  the  full  toggery  of  a great  chief, 
and  carried  in  his  hand  a staff,  with  the  skul}  of  a 
white  man  at  one  end  and  a bunch  of  scalps,  fully  a 
score  in  number,  and  representing  the  hair  of  old  age 
to  childhood,  for  there  were  long  white  locks,  evidently 
torn  from  the  head  of  some  old  woman,  and  the 
silken  blond  hair  of  the  infant. 

The  face  of  the  old  medicine-thief  was  streaked 
with  red,  white,  and  black  paint,  and  the  hands  had 
been  dyed  crimson,  a sure  sign  that  he  meant  war. 

Such  was  Death  Killer,  the  medicine-chief  of  the 
Sioux  village,  and  the  power  he  held  was  equal  to  that 
of  Wolf  Fang,  and  in  fact  he  was  more  feared.  His 
followers  in  the  medical  fraternity  were  chips  of  the 
old  block,  and  an  ugly  lot  of  scamps,  as  a glance  would 
show.  •*' 

When  the  camp-fire,  a very  grand  affair,  was  lighted 


io8  What  the  Firelight  Revealed. 

in  front  of  the  medicine  lodge,  these  worthies  were  dis- 
covered seated  in  a line,  their  backs  to  the  teepee,  their 
heads  drooped,  and  the  old  chief  in  the  center. 

With  the  lighting  of  the  fire  the  battle-chiefs  and 
warriors  of  the  village  began  to  move  toward  the  medi- 
cine lodge  singly  and  in  pairs.  Reaching  the  fire,  they 
seated  themselves  in  a semicircle  around  it,  and  facing 
the , medicine-men,  those  of  higher  rank  forming  the 
inner  circle. 

Not  a word  was  spoken,  and  only  the  beating  of  the 
death-drums  through  the  village  broke  the  stillness. 

Soon  a tall  form  advanced  and  took  the  seat  of 
honor,  facing  the  medicine-chief,  Death  Killer.  This 
late  comer  was  Wolf  Fang,  and  a finer  specimen  of 
savage  manhood  could  not  be  found. 

He  was  as  straight  as  a soldier,  his  shoulders  broad, 
waist  small,  and,  being  over  six  feet  in  height,  he  pos- 
sessed a form  that  was  full  of  strength  and  activity. 

His  leggings  and  moccasins  were  richly  beaded,  his 
head-dress  of  plumes  of  various  colors  was  gorgeous 
and  his  body  was  tore  from  the  waist  up,  Excepting  the 
silver  armlets  l*fr  wore  and  the  necklaces  of  bear-claws 
that  encircled  his  neck,  around  which  hung  a fringe  of 


What  the  Firelight  Revealed.  109 

scalps,  two-score  in  number,  and  gory  trophies  that 
were  his  pride. 

As  Wolf  Fang  approached  all  but  Death  Killer  arose 
until  he  took  his  seat,  and  then  every  eye  was  turned 
upon  him.  His  face  was  a strong  one,  but  full  of  reck- 
lessness, and  it  was  devoid  of  paint. 

For  some  moments  after  his  arrival  a silence  fol- 
lowed, and  then  the  old  medicine-chief  spoke  in  a low, 
deep  voice,  addressing  Wolf  Fang: 

“Has  the  great  fcattle-chief  of  our  people  opened  his 
ears  to  the  words  of  the  Death  Killer  and  his  medicine- 
men?” he  asked. 

“The  ears  of  the  Wolf  Fang  are  ever  open  to  hear 
that  which  is  good  for  his  people,”  was  the  reply. 

“The  Death  Killer  and  his  medicine-men  have  looked 
among  the  braves  of  the  tribe,  and  find  half  a thousand 
warriors,  as  the  palefaces  count  them,  who  can  go  upon 
the  war-path  with  the  coming  of  dawn.  Will  the  Wolf 
Fang  lead  them  ?” 

“The  Wolf  Fang  will  lead  his  braves  to  battle;  but 
the  Wolf  Fang’s  people  are  sick;  they  fall  as  the 
leaves  fall,  and  the  Death  Killer  and  his  medicine-men 
do  not  save  them.  The  braves,  the  women,  and  chil- 


no  What  the  Firelight  Revealed. 

dren  all  die,  and  the  sickness  seizes  upon  more  and 
drags  them  down. 

“The  Wolf  Fang  would  not  fly  from  his  people  in 
their  sorrow;  he  would  not  lead  a band  of  sick  war- 
riors to  stagger  upon  the  war-path  and  be  cut  down  by 
the  palefaces,  but  he  would  remain  here  to  nurse  them 
back  to  health,  and  then,  with  strong  feet  and  arms,  to 
have  his  braves  go  and  fight  our  white  foes.  The  Wolf 
Fang  has  spoken;  he  has  told  his  wishes;  but  if  the 
great  medicine-chief,  Death  Killer,  says  that  the  Great 
Spirit  will  not  make  our  people  well  unless  we  go,  sick, 
worn  out,  and  with  unhappy  hearts  upon  the  war-path, 
then  Wolf  Fang  will  lead  his  warriors,  if  it  be  to  death 
only.” 

The  young  chief  had  begun  to  speak  in  a low  tone, 
and  while  seated;  but  after  a few  words  arose  to  his 
feet,  and  what  he  said  fell  with  telling  force  upon  his 
braves,  who  simply  sided  with  the  views  of  the  old 
medicine-chief  from  fear  of  the  mysterious  powers  he 
held. 

But  Death  Killer  was  not  to  be  put  off.  He  saw  that 
the  scourge  was  seizing  fresh  victims  hourly,  and  his 
medicines  '"ere  of  no  use  to  stay  the  dread  ci:'°ase. 


What  the  Firelight  Revealed.  in 

Could  he  get  Wolf  Fang  and  his  five  hundred  braves 
off  for  a couple  of  weeks,  he  would  remove  all  the  well 
to  the  hills,  let  the  sick  die,  and  thus  try  to  arrest  the 
epidemic.  If  he  could  not  do  this  his  power  was  gone. 

And  more,  he  had  hopes  that  the  warriors  would 
return  victorious,  and  thus  show  that  he  was  right  in 
sending  them. 

Seeing  that  Wolf  Fang  would  go  if  he  said  it  was 
right  to  please  the  Great  Spirit,  the  cunning  old  medi- 
cine-chief arose  to  his  feet  and  said  in  solemn  tones : 

j “The  Great  Spirit  demands  that  the  blood  of  the 
palefaces  be  shed.  The  Wolf  Fang  must  lead  his  war- 
riors to  battle,  and  death  will  fly  from  our  village  in 
fright.” 

i Then  silence  fell  upon  all,  broken  by  a cry  from  a 
hundred  lips  as  suddenly  upon  the  hilltop  flashed  up  a 
bright  flame. 

I It  was  in  full  view  of  the  village,  and  upon  the  trail 
leading  down  to  the  medicine  lodge.  There,  in  the 
full  glare  of  the  fire,  which  had  so  suddenly  flared  up, 
sat  a horseman. 

Horse  and  rider  were  motionless,  and  the  latter  had 


1 12  What  the  Firelight  Revealed. 

his  hands  raised  above  his  head,  the  palms  tamed  to- 
ward the  Indians,  as  a token  of  peace. 

“The  mighty  chief  of  the  palefaces !”  cried  a number 
of  warriors,  recognizing  the  horseman  by  the  bright 
glare  of  the  fire,  and  one  and  all  sprung  to  their  feet  in 
dire  alarm. 

The  warriors  discovered  several  things  at  a glance. 
First,  they  beheld  the  mighty  chief  of  the  palefaces, 
seated  calmly  upon  his  horse,  his  arms  raised  above  his 
head,  as  though  he  had  come  to  them  upon  a mission 
of  peace.  The  camp-fire  revealed  him  distinctly,  for  he 
was  not  very  far  distant. 

Next,  they  saw  that  the  camp-fire  had  been  quietly 
built  under  cover  of  the  darkness,  and  then  lagged 
suddenly,  and  it  had  flared  up  as  though  some  inflam- 
mable substance  had  been  poured  upon  the  wood. 

These  discoveries  brought  all  to  their  feet,  for, 
knowing  Buffalo  Bill  well,  they  felt  that  at  his  back  he 
must  have  a number  of  white  soldiers,  come  to  attack 
their  plague-ridden  village.  A second  look  showed 
that  the  horseman  appeared  not  only  to  be  unaccom- 
panied, but  was  coming  alone  to  their  village. 

At  a word  from  his  master,  the  noble  animal  which 


What  the  Firelight  Revealed.  113 

the  white  man  bestrode  moved  slowly  down  the  trait 
toward  the  Indian  village. 

Upon  hi's  back,  upright  and  calm,  and  with  his  hands 
raised  above  his  head,  as  when  first  discovered,  Buffalo 
Bill  sat,  coming  to  dare  Indian  fury  and  treachery. 

Out  of  the  glare  of  the  firelight  he  rode,  and  step- 
ping away  from  their  lodge-fire,  the  warriors  shaded 
their  eyes  and  traced  his  way  through  the  darkness. 
All  looked  to  the  Wolf  Fang  for  orders,  but  his  lips 
moved  not,  and  then  old  Death  Killer  spoke : 

“Let  the  young  braves  meet  and  seize  their  white  foe, 
and  drag  him  here  for  us  to  look  upon,”  he  said. 

At  his  words  a dozen  warriors  bounded  away,  but  a 
loud  call  from  Wolf  Fang  brought  them  back. 

“Do  my  braves  fear  one  man  when  he  comes  alone  to 
our  village?”  he  said.  “Let  my  warriors  wait,  for  the 
great  chief  of  the  palefaces  comes  with  his  hands 
empty,  and  places  himself  in  our  power.” 

This  seemed  true,  as  far  as  the  braves  had  discov- 
ered, and  they  waited  in  patience,  though  all  saw  that 
old  Death  Killer  had  hoped  the  white  man  would  have 
been  killed  by  some  of  them,  and  not  be  brought  alive 
into  their  midst. 


1 14  What  the  Firelight  Revealed. 

The  eyes  of  the  entire  village  were  now  upon  the 
daring  paleface,  who  came  alone  into  the  midst  of  his 
enemies.  They  saw  him  coming  like  a shadowy  phan- 
tom through  the  darkness  and  watched  him  ride 
slowly  up  to  the  council  lodge  and  dismount. 

Leaving  his  horse  standing  untied,  with  uplifted 
hands  he  calmly  advanced,  the  warriors  giving  way 
before  him  and  closing  in  behind  him,  their  hands 
grasping  their  knives. 

Straight  up  to  Wolf  Fang  he  walked,  and,  halting 
before  him,  folded  his  arms,  and  stood  thus  in  easy, 
graceful  posture,  while  he  said,  in  his  softest  tones : 

“The  white  chief  of  the  palefaces  has  come  to  Wolf 
Fang  and  to  his  people,  to  drive  death  from  their  tee- 
pees, to  save  their  braves,  their  women  and  children, 
and  to  bring  back  laughter  to  their  hearts  where  now 
are  only  wails  of  sorrow. 

“Will  the  Wolf  Fang  and  his  warriors  let  the  chief 
of  the  palefaces  prove  that  his  tongue  is  straight,  that 
he  will  do  as  he  says,  or  will  they  kill  him  and  start 
on  their  war-trail  against  their  white  foes,  leaving 
death  in  their  village,  to  meet  death  on  the  prairies, 
and  if  they  come  back,  to  find  graves  to  mark  where 


What  the  Firelight  Revealed.  115 

lie  their  people,  dead  because  their  medicine-men  are 
fools  and  know  not  how  to  kill  the  sickness  that  is 
destroying  this  Sioux  tribe? 

“The  white  chief  has  spoken,  and  he  is  ready  to 
heal  his  redskin  foes,  or  to  die  by  their  hands.  Let  the 
Wolf  Fang  speak.” 

Not  a sound  other  than  the  crackling  of  the  burn- 
ing wood  was  heard  during  the  words  of  Buffalo  Bill. 

What  he  said  fell  upon  them  like  a voice  from  the 
happy  hunting-grounds.  They  were  dazed  by  his 
boldness,  amazed  by  his  claim  to  cure  them,  and 
astounded  that  he  knew  of  their  intended  raid  upon 
the  settlements  and  ranches. 

He  had  come  alone  into  their  midst,  which  showed 
that  he  did  not  fear  them.  He  knew  of  the  plague 
upon  them,  and  yet  came  to  face  and  cure  them.  He 
called  their  great  medicine-men  fools,  and  told  them 
that  he  was  ready  to  die,  if  so  they  willed. 

All  eyes  turned  upon  Wolf  Fang  and  then  upon  old 
Death  Killer.  The  latter  was  nervous,  and  grasped 
his  knife  convulsively,  while  his  medicine-men  did  the 
same. 

As  f - Wolf  Fang,  he  had  folded  hi"  -.ns  upon  his 


_i6  What  the  Firelight  Revealed. 

broad  breast,  and  stood  as  did  his  white  foe,  calm  and 
unmoved;  This  was  one  sign  that  he  meant  no  hos- 
tility toward  him  just  then. 

Having  spoken,  the  scout  stood  in  silence,  as  patient 
as  an  Indian,  awaiting  the  result. 

“Will  the  great  chief  Wolf  Fang  hurl  words  into 
the  face  of  the  white  dog,  or  shall  Death  Killer 
speak?”  suddenly  cried  the  old  medicine-chief,  too 
excited  to  longer  remain  silent. 

“The  Wolf  Fang  has  a tongue.  He  does  not  sit  like 
a child  in  council  when  there  are  words  to  be  said.  He 
has  heard  the  words  of  the  mighty  chief  of  the  pale- 
faces and  he  will  reply  to  him,  and  the  Death  Killer 
will  remain  silent  when  the  battle-chief  talks.” 

These  words  fell  like  a thunderbolt  upon  all,  for 
they  showed  that  the  Wolf  Fang  would  allow  no  inter- 
ference, even  from  the  Death  Killer,  and  that  he  was 
impressed  by  what  the  paleface  had  said. 

Then  again  fell  a silence  upon  all,  and  the  eyes  of 
the  warriors  rested  on  the  unmoved  face  of  Buffalo 
Bill  with  an  admiration  at  his  courage  which  they 
could  not  hide. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


THE  CHIEF'S  PLEDGE. 

After  another  silence,  always  impressive  in  an  In- 
dian council,  Wolf  Fang  again  turned  to  the  scout 
and  asked : 

“Is  not  the  great  white  chief  the  foe  of  the  red 
man  ?” 

“The  chief  of  the  palefaces  is  the  redman’s  foe  when 
the  warrior  faces  him  with  arms  in  his  hands  to  kill 
him.  But  when  the  redmen  are  sick  and  in  sorrow, 
when  their  people  are  falling  like  the  leaves  from  the 
trees  in  autumn,  then  the  white  chief  is  their  friend,’’ 
was  the  answer,  the  scout,  as  before,  speaking  in  the 
Sioux  tongue. 

“And  what  says  the  white  chief  he  can  do  for  my 
people  ?” 

“He  can  drive  sickness  and  death  from  their  village, 
if  they  will  do  as  he  commands  them." 

“Does  he  say  that  he  can  do  that  which  the  great 


xi8  The  Chief’s  Pledge. 

Death  Killer,  the  medicine-chief  of  the  Sioux,  can- 
not do?” 

“Yes.” 

“The  Death  Killer  is  the  greatest  of  medicine-men.” 

“The  Death  Killer  is  an  old  fool,”  was  the  contemp- 
tuous reply  of  Buffalo  Bill,  and  the  Indians  fairly 
started  at  his  bold  words,  fearing  the  old  medicine- 
man as  they  did. 

“No;  the  Death  Killer  is  a great  medicine-man — 
his  head  is  right — his  tongue  is  straight,”  said  Wolf 
Fang,  not  liking  to  hear  a man  whom  he  had  regarded 
as  great  called  a fool. 

“Then  why  does  not  the  Death  Killer  save  his  peo- 
ple? Why  does  he  not  drive  the  plague  from  among 
them?  Why  does  he  not  cure  the  sick,  instead  of 
sending  the  Wolf  Fang  and  his  brave  warriors  off  to 
fight  the  palefaces,  when  he  knows  that  they  will  be 
cut  to  pieces,  sick  and  wretched  as  they  are  ? No ; the 
Death  Killer  has  no  power  to  cure  his  people,  and  the 
white  chief  has.” 

These  bold  words  were  listened  to  with  amazement, 
and  furtive  glances  were  cast  at  the  man  thus  de- 


The  Chief’s  Pledge.  1 19 

flounced,  and  who  had  held  the  Sioux  under  a kind  of 
holy  terrorism  for  years. 

The  questions  were  unanswerable,  and  Wolf  Fang, 
impressed  by  them,  asked : 

“Does  the  white  chief  say  that  he  can  save  my 
people?” 

“Yes.  What  has  the  Death  Killer  to  say?” 

Wolf  Fang  turned  to  the  old  chief,  who  looked  as 
though  he  was  about  to  blow  up  with  fury.  But, 
curbing  an  outburst,  he  said,  while  his  voice  quivered : 

“The  white  chief  is  a lying  dog  of  a paleface.  His 
words  are  not  straight,  his  tongue  is  crooked.  He 
has  come  as  a spy  to  our  village,  and  talks,  while  he 
looks,  so  that  his  warriors  can  come  in  and  kill  us 
while  our  people  are  sick  and  dying.” 

This  seemed  a new  way  of  accounting  for  the  visit 
of  Buffalo  Bill,  and  it  had  its  weight  at  once,  as  the 
scout  saw.  He  was  quick  to  check  the  tide  against 
him  by  saying: 

“The  white  chief  has  come  alone,  and  he  faces  the 
sickness  that  kills  your  people,  and  confronts  your 
warriors  in  their  anger.  He  is  here  to  prove  that  his 
fiongue  is  not  crooked,  that  his  words  are  not  a lie,  and^ 


120  The  Chief’s  Pledge. 

he  will  begin  his  work  at  once  to  save  his  Sioux 
brothers. 

“If  he  fails,  they  have  him  here  to  torture  him  to 
death  and  to  place  his  scalp  on  the  lodge-pole  of  the 
Death  Killer,  their  great  medicine-chief.  Will  the 
Sioux  warriors  believe  the  words  of  the  white  chief?” 

“No;  the  white  dog  shall ” 

But  Wolf  Fang  sprang  before  the  enfuriated  old 
medicine-chief,  and  clutched  him  in  his  firm  grasp, 
while  he  said  sternly  : 

“The  Wolf  Fang  is  chief  here.  Let  the  Death 
Killer  not  anger  him.” 

Again  a silence  fell  upon  all,  while  the  old  medicine- 
chief  turned  and  walked  moodily  into  the  lodge,  fol- 
lowed by  his  medicine-men,  who,  with  him,  were  wild 
with  rage  at  the  words  of  the  white  man. 

Then  Wolf  Fang  spoke,  and  all  listened  with  deep- 
est attention  to  every  word  that  fell  from  his  lips.  He 
said : 

“If  the  great  chief’s  heart  is  black,  his  face  does  not 
show  it.  If  his  words  are  false,  his  eyes  look  true. 
He  says  what  he  can  do.  If  he  does  what  his  words 
say,  the  Wolf  Fang  will  let  him  go  free.  If  he  speak 


The  Chiefs  Pledge.  121 

crooked,  the  Wolf  Fang  will  give  him  into  the  hands 
of  the  Death  Killer  and  his  medicine-men  to  torture.’' 

“I  accept  the  pledge  of  Wolf  Fang;  but  he  must 
help  me  to  heal  his  people.” 

“The  Wolf  Fang  will  do  as  the  white  chief  asks. 
Do  my  warriors  say  that  their  chief  has  spoken  well  ?” 
and  he  turned  to  the  braves  about  him. 

A general  grunt  of  assent  followed,  and  then  Buf- 
falo Bill  became  the  self-installed  medicine-man  of  the 
Indian  village,  with  death  by  torture  staring  him  in 
the  face  if  he  failed  to  make  his  words  good. 

Buffalo  Bill  went  to  work  with  decision.  He  knew 
that  failure  was  death,  and  yet  this  knowledge  did  not 
make  him  nervous. 

His  first  duty  was  to  at  once  ask  Wolf  Fang  to 
select  for  him  the  best  nurses  he  had  in  the  village, 
young  or  old,  and  of  either  sex.  This  being  done,  for 
Wolf  Fang  seemed  to  be  inspired  with  the  belief  that 
the  white  chief  knew  what  he  was  about,  Buffalo  Bill 
set  off  on  a tour  of  the  village. 

To  his  amazement,  he  found  the  situation  far  worse 
than  he  could  have  believed,  and  the  dread  plague  was 
seizing  upon  new  victims  almost  hourly.  Having 


122  The  Chiefs  Pledge. 

made  this  discovery,  he  decided  to  first  strive  to  check 
the  spread  of  the  evil. 

But  to  do  this  he  must  vaccinate,  and  he  expectedi 
trouble  at  once  where  he  had  to  do  this  with  a red- 
skin. 

He  had  brought  with  him  a quantity  of  excellent 
virus  and  all  that  he  felt  he  would  need,  and  he  quickly 
arranged  them  in  a teepee  which  the  young  chief  as- 
signed to  him. 

He  was  tired  with  his  long  ride  and  loss  of  sleep, 
but  he  would  sacrifice  self  to  begin  the  good  work  at 
once.  To  Wolf  Fang  and  the  more  intelligent  among 
the  Indians  he  explained  as  well  as  he  could,  to  their 
untutored  minds,  the  uses  of  vaccination  as  a prevent- 
ive against  catching  smallpox,  and  the  young  chief 
promptly  stepped  forward  and  bared  his  brawny  arm 
for  the  surgeon  to  work  on. 

This  was  half  the  battle,  and  the  scout  smiled  at  his 
success.  But  there  were  rumors  going  around  that 
the  white  man  was  putting  poison  in  their  veins,  to 
kill  them  all,  and  this  at  once  checked  the  coming  of 
the  patients. 

Dark  looks  and  grumbling  were  heard  upon  all 


The  Chief’s  Pledge.  123 

sides,  and  a storm  was  brewing  when  the  scout  at  once 
bared  his  own  arm  and  performed  the  operation  on 
himself,  while  he  said  quietly  : 

“See,  if  my  red  brothers  die,  I will  die  with  them.” 

This  at  once  reassured  the  Indians,  and  again  the 
stream  of  red  humanity  flowed  toward  the  Mecca  of 
hope. 

And  on  they  came, . through  the  hours  of  the  night, 
the  white  man  seated  in  his  teepee,  by  a rude  table,  a 
rush-light  burning  brightly  within,  a large  camp-fire 
without,  while  the  stream  marched  in  and  flowed) 

out. 

Old  warriors  on  crutches,  old  squaws  with  sticks, 
braves  in  the  full  vigor  of  manhood,  maidens  in  the 
perfect  flush  of  youth,  mothers  with  babes,  and  chil- 
dren by  scores,  trooped  along  in  superstitious  awe  of 
the  great  white  chief  who  had  daringly  come  into  their 
village  to  drive  death  out  and  befriend  his  bitterest 
foes. 

All  night  long  the  crowd  poured  in,  until,  at  last, 
all  who  could  walk  had  gone  through  the,  to  them, 
weird  performance  that  must  save  their  lives.  What 
it  meant  they  could  not  tell,  but  their  cr,:  f trusted, 


124  The  Chief’s  Pledge. 

while  their  own  medicine-men  hung  back,  sneered, 
and  in  grim  silence  looked  on. 

When  the  red  villagers  had  been  gone  through  with, 
excepting  the  medicine-men,  the  scout  turned  to  them. 
Even  to  his  unskilled  eye  the  faces  of  several  showed 
that  they  had  already  contracted  the  disease,  and  would 
soon  be  down  with  it,  and  he  determined  to  make  a 
point  of  this. 

“Will  my  brother  medicine-men  let  the  white  chief 
keep  them  from  death?”  he  asked,  turning  alike  to 
Death  Killer  and  the  others  who  stood  near. 

The  Death  Killer  gave  a contemptuous  grunt  and 
turned  away,  while  his  followers  also  showed  con- 
tempt for  the  white  chief. 

“So  be  it;  the  white  chief  has  spoken  and  you 
refuse.” 

Then,  fixing  his  eyes  upon  those  whom  he  believed 
to  be  already  suffering,  the  scout  continued : 

“You  will  be  sick  soon,  and  you,  and  you,  and  you,” 
and  thus  he  pointed  out  those  any>ng  the  medicine- 
men, and  the  crowd,  who  would  be  victims. 

His  words  sent  an  awe  through  the  hearts  of  all; 


The  Chief’s  Pledge.  125 

but  unheeding  this,  the  daring  white  man  began  his 
work  on  those  already  down  and  suffering. 

Under  the  instruction  of  the  scout,  the  village  was 
soon  made  as  clean  as  possible,  while  new  teepees  were 
pitched  farther  up  the  valley,  and  the  well  people  all 
moved  there,  leaving  their  traps,  old  robes,  and  all 
disease-contaminated  material  to  be  burned. 

Many  of  the  Indians  clung  desperately  to  their 
blankets;  but  the  scout  was  not  to  be  moved,  and 
Wolf  Fang,  with  perfect  confidence  in  him,  came  to 
his  rescue  in  all  cases  and  carried  the  point  in  his 
favor. 

Day  and  night  the  indefatigable  man  worked,  giv- 
ing medicines,  nursing,  and  doing  all  in  his  power  to 
check  the  spread  of  the  disease,  as  well  as  to  cure  those 
who  were  sick.  He  had  obtained  a set  of  simple  rules 
for  the  treatment  of  the  disease  from  the  surgeon  at 

the  fort,  but  his  main  reliance  was  the  application  of 

*■ 

common  sense  in  checking  the  scourge  by  sanitary 
measures. 

Under  this  rigid  work  the  good  result  began  to 
show  itself  at  once,  almost,  and  the  second  day  very 


126  The  Chief’s  Pledge. 

few  deaths  occurred,  while  in  the  upper  village,  where 
the  well  had  been  removed,  only  a case  or  two  had 
broken  out,  and  these,  with  their  blankets  and  robes, 
had  been  hustled  off  to  the  hospital  village,  as  the  scout 
called  the  lower  camp. 

Untiring,  snatching  a nap  here  and  there,  Buffalo 
Bill  continued  on  in  the  good  work,  and  soon  his  In- 
dian nurses  became  skilled  and  did  much  to  help  along 
in  the  good  cause  of  preventing  the  spread  of  the 
plague. 

When  one  after  the  other  of  the  medicine-men  were 
taken  down,  and  the  very  one  whom  the  “Mighty 
Medicine-man” — as  the  Indians  now  called  the  scout 
— had  pointed  out,  he  was  first  at  their  side,  doing  all 
in  his  power  for  them ; nor  were  they  averse  to  his 
services,  while  Several  others  even  submitted  to  being 
vaccinated  by  him,  though  old  Death  Killer  and  two 
or  three  of  the  older  ones  still  held  out. 

Through  the  scourge  thus  far  the  medicine-men  had 
miraculously  escaped  contagion ; but  when  at  last  half 
their  number  got  down  with  the  dread  ailment,  it 
broke  down  the  lingering  hope  of  a number  of  the 
Indians  who  still  clung  to  them  in  preference  to  the 


The  Chief’s  Pledge.  127 

white  man,  and  they  acknowledged  “Mighty  Medi- 
cine” the  King  of  Death. 

Thus  days  passed  away  and  death  no  longer  stalked 
through  the  Indian  village. 

The  little  parties  that  were  often  seen  going  up  into 
the  hills  with  their  dead  kindred  were  rarely  seen  now, 
and  the  invalids  were  getting  well. 

Many  who  had  been  vaccinated  remained  in  perfect 
health,  and  the  wailing  of  squaws  and  crying  of  chil- 
dren came  to  an  end. 

At  length  no  new  cases  occurred,  and  Buffalo  Bill 
felt  that  the  end  of  his  labors  had  come,  and  his  heart 
told  him  that  he  had  nobly  done  his  duty  to  those  who 
were  his  foes,  and  also  to  his  own  race,  for  his  brave 
act  had  kept  back  the  plague-cursed  warriors  from 
rushing  down  upon  the  settlements  and  ranches  to 
spread  death,  ruin,  and  disease  among  the  palefaces. 

With  this  thought  he  sank  to  sleep  one  night,  deter- 
mined upon  the  morrow  to  demand  of  Wolf  Fang 
the  keeping  of  the  pledge  he  had  made  him. 

Wolf  Fang  came  to  the  teepee  of  the  “Mighty  Medi- 
cine” the  very  morning  following,  and  just  as  the 


,128  The  Chief's  Pledge. 

scout  was  thinking  of  looking  up  that  individual  fco 
have  a chat  with  him. 

He  knew  that  the  young  chief  was  friendly  to  him, 
and  appreciated  all  he  had  done,  and  had  reproved  a 
number  of  his  people  for  believing  that  none  of  the 
sick  should  die  after  the  white  doctor  had  given  his 
promise  to  check  the  epidemic. 

Wolf  Fang  was  no  fool,  but  possessed  good  com- 
mon sense,  and,  though  a superstitious  Indian,  he  did 
not  expect  miracles,  and  was  not  disappointed. 

He  had  observed  the  acts  of  the  scout  closely,  and 
observed  that  the  death-rate  decreased  ten  per  cent, 
the  first  few  days  and  fifty  per  cent,  before  the  week 
was  out,  while  those  who  fell  ill  after  the  coming  of 
the  white  man  were  even  of  a smaller  percentage. 

He  also  observed  that  many  of  the  very  sick  got 
well,  a thing  that  had  not  occurred  in  a single  case 
under  his  own  medicine-men. 

Seeing  all  this,  he  realized  that  the  scout  had  saved 
the  lives  of  hundreds  of  his  people,  many  of  them  his 
best  warriors,  and  the  visit  to  his  teepee  was  to  so 
tell  him,  and  prove  his  appreciation  thereof. 

With  the  chief  came  all  the  several  chiefs  of  the 


The  Chief’s  Pledge.  129 

tribe,  all  in  their  full  war-bonnets  and  attire,  mounted 
upon  their  best  ponies,  also  in  gorgeous  trappings,  and 
followed  by  one  hundred  picked  warriors.  Then  there 
were  four  maidens,  radiant  in  buckskin  attire,  and 
they  represented  the  four  moons  of  the  year. 

The  maidens  were  supposed  to  be  beautiful,  and 
were,  according  to  redskin  taste,  though  two  of  them 
were  pitted  with  smallpox,  and  the  one  representing 
the  spring  moon  had  her  dress  and  headgear  worked 
in  green  beads,  emerald-stained  quills,  and  feathers 
dyed  the  same  hue,  to  denote  the  budding  forth  of  the 
leaves  and  grass. 

The  summer  moon  was  represented  by  a maiden 
decorated  in  red,  to  indicate  the  warmth  of  the  sun, 
and  the  fall  moon  had  yellow  decorations,  while  white 
beads  and  white  robe  and  feathers  showed  the  snow, 
or  winter  moon. 

These  four  maidens  advanced  ahead  of  the  warriors, 
and  behind  the  chiefs. 

Arriving  at  the  teepee,  the  scout  came  out  and 
gazed  with  surprise  at  the  sight. 

The  chiefs,  some  twenty  in  number,  divided  in  two 


130  The  Chief’s  Pledge. 

lines,  facing  inward,  and  the  warriors,  a hundred 
strong,  formed  a semicircle  around  them. 

Wolf  Fang  had  now  dismounted  and  stepped  in 
front  of  Buffalo  Bill. 

“Well,  chief,  you  are  out  in  force.  Is  it  my  scalp 
you  are  after;  do  you  want  me  to  vaccinate  you  over 
again,  or  have  you  all  been  taken  suddenly  with  small- 
pox?” coolly  said  the  scout. 

Wolf  Fang  had  a heart  for  his  people,  and  hatred1 
for  all  others.  He  was  unmerciful  to  a foe.  Still,  he 
admired  pluck  even  in  a foe. 

He  would  have  been  delighted  to  torture  Buffalo 
Bill  to  death,  and  laughed  to  hear  his  groans  of 
anguish.  But  he  had  it  in  him  to  honor  high  courage, 
and  to  prove  his  appreciation  of  a service  done  him  or 
his  people. 

He  owed  the  scout  bitter  grudges,  and  knew  that 
several  of  his  warriors  had  bitten  the  dust  at  the 
crack  of  his  rifle  or  revolver.  But  he  owed  him  a 
debt  he  could  not  regard  too  highly,  in  what  he  had 
done  for  him  and  his  people,  and  he  had  come  to 
say  so. 

Stepping  forward  with  the  majestic  dignity  natural 


The  Ciders  Pledge.  131 

to  him,  and  looking  every  inch  the  savage  king  he  was, 
he  said  in  his  deep  voice: 

“The  white  chief  will  listen  to  the  words  of  the 
.Wolf  Fang.” 

“Yes;  let  my  red  brother  speak,”  answered  the 
scout. 

“The  white  chief  is  a great  chief,  though  his  blood 
is  white,  and  the  blood  of  Wolf  Fang  and  his  people 
is  red.  He  has  long  been  the  foe  of  the  Wolf  Fang 
and  his  people,  and  my  warriors  have  longed  to  have 
his  scalp  upon  our  lodge-poles. 

“But  he  dared  to  come  to  our  village,  dared  to 
face  death  when  we  were  in  sorrow,  when  the  Great 
Spirit  had  turned  his  face  from  us  in  anger,  when 
medicine-men  were  like  children  in  the  fight  against 
the  foe  that  was  destroying  us.  Yes;  the  white  chief 
of  the  palefaces  came  to  us,  and  he  cared  for  us,  healed 
us  in  our  sickness,  laughed  at  our  medicine-men  as 
fools,  and  sent  Death,  the  Destroyer,  from  our  vil- 
lage. He  has  done  this;  he  has  shown  us  that  his 
words  were  not  crooked,  and  he  has  not  spoken  with 
a slit  tongue,  and  the  people  of  the  Wolf  Fang  respect 
him  for  what  he  has  done.” 


The  Chief’s  Pledge. 


133 

“I  did  my  duty,  Wolf  Fang,  and  knowing  that 
pleases  me  more  than  all  this  palaver  and  powwow,” 
said  the  scout;  "But  speak  your  little  piece,  even  if 
you  scalp  me  when  you  have  ended  it.” 

The  Wolf  Fang  did  not  master  the  words  of  the 
white  man  exactly,  and  went  on  in  his  oratorical  way : 

"The  Wolf  Fang  has  spoken,  and  the  white  chief 
is  free  to  go  his  way,  for  no  arrow  of  our  people  will 
be  turned  upon  him,  no  warrior  of  our  tribe  will  strike 
his  trail  until  he  has  gone  to  his  people.” 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE  FIGHT  BY  PROXY. 

The  duty  that  called  him  to  the  Indian  village  being 
ended,  the  scout  was  anxious  to  get  away. 

It  was  his  intention  to  return  to  the  secret  retreat 
where,  on  his  way,  he  had  left  his  clothing,  and  there 
destroy  every  vestige  of  what  he  had  worn  in  the  In- 
dian camp,  and  after  fumigating  all  else,  and  remain- 
ing until  he  was  assured  all  danger  of  contagion  was 
over,  to  go  back  to  the  fort. 

Not  a word  had  he  heard  of  what  was  going  on  at 
the  fort  and  ranches  since  his  going'  to  Wolf  Fang’s 
village,  for  no  Indian  scouts  had  been  sent  out,  and 
he  had  discouraged  the  idea  of  sending  them  by  say- 
ing that  they  might  be  taken  ill  and  die  alone  on  the 
prairie. 

Having  made  all  his  arrangements  to  leave,  and 
been  presented  by  Wolf  Fang  with  the  best  horse  of 
his  herd,  to  act  as  a pack-animal  for  his  robes  and  pro- 


134  The  Fight  by  Proxy. 

visions,  he  bade  farewell  to  the  redskins  and  rode 
out  of  camp  one  morning  at  sunrise. 

The  Indians  were  quiet,  thankful  for  what  he  had 
done,  and  glad  to  see  him  go,  and  Wolf  Fang  alone 
had  grasped  his  hand  at  parting  and  said  earnestly : 

“The  white  chief  will  not  be  forgotten.” 

Now,  Buffalo  Bill  was  a perfect  student  of  human 
nature,  and  nothing  escaped  his  keen  eyes.  He  knew, 
as  he  departed  from  the  village,  that  the  end  had  not 
yet  come.  He  had  seen  a forced  friendship  shown 
him,  and  he  was  not  deceived  by  it. 

He  had  restored  to  health  the  medicine-men  who 
were  ill,  but  had  not  gained  their  friendship  thereby, 
but  rather  their  envy  and  hatred  that  he  had  done 
what  they  could  not  do. 

Old  Death  Killer  had  a strong  following  he  knew, 
and  they  were  of  the  most  unruly  members  of  the 
band.  Watching  Death  Killer  closely,  though  not 
appearing  to  do  so,  he  had  observed  that  the  old  rascal 
was  engaged  in  some  plot  against  him. 

What  that  plot  was  he  could  not  fathom,  but  he 
rode  out  of  the  village  convinced  that  he  would  soon 
know.  He  took  the  straight  trail  back,  disdaining  to 


135 


The  Fight  by  Proxy. 

go  out  of  his  way  to  avoid  danger,  and  his  every  sense 
was  on  the  qui  vive  to  meet  what  might  face  him. 

He  had  brought  his  repeating-rifle  with  him,  and 
his  revolvers,  while  his  belt  of  ammunition  he  had 
never  parted  from  for  an  instant,  so  he  knew  that 
had  not  been  tampered  with. 

The  loads  in  his  rifle  and  revolvers  he  could  not 
vouch  for  on  that  score,  and  he  took  the  first  chance 
to  halt  and  unload  them,  putting  in  fresh. 

Then  he  rode  on  with  more  confidence. 

He  had  gotten  some  miles  from  the  camp  when  he 
saw  that  he  had  to  pass  through  a canon,  narrow, 
long,  and  with  precipitous  wall-sides,  along  the  base 
of  which  grew  stunted  trees  that  would  readily  hide  a 
hundred  Indians^ 

On  the  watch  he  rode  into  the  canon,  to  see  sud- 
denly step  out  before  him  none  other  than  the  old 
Death  Killer  himself. 

The  medicine-man  made  no  hostile  demonstrations, 
and  Buffalo  Bill  did  not  raise  his  rifle,  but  came  to  a 
halt,  with  a quick  glance  over  his  shoulder,  as  though 
he  expected  to  see  redskins  behind  him. 

“What  does  the  Death  Killer  want?”said  the  scout 


136  Tile  Fight  by  Proxy. 

“The  paleface  dog  has  said  that  the  Death  Killer, 
the  great  medicine-chief  of  his  tribe,  is  a fool,”  sav- 
agely answered  Death  Killer. 

“And  it  hit  you  hard,  old  man,  to  tell  the  truth 
about  you,”  was  the  off-hand  reply. 

“The  white  man  is  a coward,”  hissed  the  Indian. 

“We  say  in  English,  old  man,  that  the  proof  of  the 
pudding  is  in  the  eating  of  it,  and  you  can  prove 
your  words  by  meeting  me,  though  I do  hate  to  fire 
on  a white  head.” 

“Will  the  paleface  fight?” 

“Just  try  me  on  and  see  if  I don’t  fit,  though  I may 
be  a trifle  large  for  you,”  was  the  quaint  reply. 

“The  Death  Killer  buried  his  weapon  long  moons 
ago ; he  is  a medicine-man,  not  a warrior,  though  the 
time  was  when  he  took  paleface  scalps  by  the  dozen; 
but  the  paleface  said  he  would  fight.” 

“I’d  rather  not;  and  especially  have  to  strike  one 
who  is  as  feeble  as  a squaw;  but  a wounded  buffalo 
is  dangerous,  and  I’ll  not  let  even  your  white  hairs 
bar  my  way,  so  move  on,  old  man.” 

"Will  the  white-face  dog  fight  like  the  brave  he 
claims  to  be  ?”  almost  shrieked  the  old  Indian. 


The  Fight  by  Proxy.  137 

“Say,  old  man,  I really  wish  you  had  died  with 
the  smallpox ; but  it  wouldn’t  take  to  your  old  hide, 
though,  if  it  had,  it  would  have  been  a blessing  for 
your  tribe.  Now  move,  or  I’ll  ride  over  you.” 

“The  paleface  is  a coward,  for  he  refuses  to  fight !” 
again  shrieked  the  old  sinner. 

“Show  me  something  I can  get  a grip  on,  and  I’ll 
undeceive  you,  you  heathen  herb-crusher.” 

“The  Tiger  Killer  will  meet  the  white  chief,”  said  a 
; hoarse  voice,  and  from  the  thicket  stepped  out  a 
brave  whom  Buffalo  Bill  had  often  seen  in  the  camp 
and  admired  for  his  grand  physique. 

He  was  almost  a giant,  with  broad  shoulders,  heavy 
hips,  and  arms  that  were  huge  and  muscular.  In  the 
village  he  was  feared  by  all  for  his  ungovernable 
rage  and  great  strength,  though  to  Wolf  Fang  and  old 
Death  Killer  he  was  most  respectful,  thus  keeping 
himself  out  of  trouble. 

He  had  never  spoken  to  the  scout,  though  ad- 
dressed by  him  several  times,  and  seemed  to  hate  him 
with  all  the  venom  of  his  nature. 

Upon  seeing  him  Buffalo  Bill  did  not  change  color, 
but  said  in  his  dry  way,  speaking  to  the  old  chief : 


138  The  Fight  by  Proxy. 

“You  better  keep  that  fellow  as  a specimen  of  what 
you  can  raise,  and  not  get  him  killed.” 

“Does  the  white  man  say  that  he  can  kill  the  Tiger 
Killer?” 

“I  can  make  a pretty  strong  try  of  it,  old  man.” 

“Will  he  fight  the  big  warrior?” 

“Does  he  stand  up  for  you,  old  man  ?” 

“The  Tiger  Killer  will  fight  for  the  Death  Killer,” 
was  the  answer. 

“Then  consider  yourself  killed  by  proxy,  old  gen- 
tleman,” and  the  scout  coolly  dismounted,  while  he 
asked  : 

“How  does  the  big  Injun  want  to  fight?” 

The  huge  warrior  stepped  forward,  a knife  in  hand, 
and  his  eyes  gleaming  wickedly,  for,  afraid  of  the 
scout’s  revolvers,  he  thought  if  he  could  get  him  to 
fight  with  knives,  once  he  got  him  in  his  powerful 
grasp,  he  could  crush  him. 

“I’m  well  used  to  knives,  old  man,  so  you  better  get 
your  little  friend  to  try  some  other  weapon.” 

“The  Tiger  Killer  fights  with  his  knife,”  was  the 
stern  reply  of  the  large  warrior. 


The  Fight  by  Proxy.  139 

“All  right;  let  me  get  my  Arkansas  toothpick  out,”' 
and,  drawing  his  bowie,  he  rubbed  the  edge  gently 
across  his  hand,  and  continued: 

“I’ll  stand  with  my  back  here,  against  this  high 
bank,  where  no  trees  grow,  so  that  I can  see  that 
there  will  be  no  funny  business  going  on  behind  me. 
And,  now,  Death  Killer,  if  I kill  you  by  proxy,  how 
many  more  braves  have  you  got  lying  in  wait  to  fight 
me?” 

“The  white  man  can  go  if  he  kills  the  Tiger.” 

“I  shall  certainly  not  ask  permission  of  you,  and 
I warn  you  I’ll  shoot  on  sight  if  any  other  Indians 
appear.” 

“The  white  man  must  lay  his  weapons  down,  as  the 
Tiger  Killer  does,  at  the  feet  of  the  Death  Killer.” 

“You  labor  under  a strange  hallucination  if  you 
think  so,  old  man,  for  I shall  keep  my  weapons — see, 

I place  my  horses  here,  and  I take  my  stand  here? 
Unchain  your  tiger  and  set  him  on  me.” 

The  Death  Killer  was  disappointed,  as  was  also  the 
Tiger,  and  they  showed  it  in  their  faces;  but  their  > 
desire  to  kill  the  white  man,  and  belief  that  he  was  no'  ! 
match  for  the  adversary  he  was  to  face  made  tliem  j 


140  The  Fight  by  Proxy. 

consent  that  their  foe  should  have  his  own  way  at 
the  start. 

As  Buffalo  Bill  bared  his  wrist  for  the  fight  the 
Tiger  Killer,  with  a wild  yell,  sprang  upon  him  with- 
out other  warning. 

What  occurred  was  done  so  rapidly  that  the  old 
medicine-man  did  not  understand  it  at  all,  for  in  a 
second’s  time,  it  seemed  to  him,  he  beheld  his  giant 
defender  dying  on  the  ground,  a knife  thrust  in  his® 
heart,  and  the  scout  in  his  saddle,  a revolver  in  each 
hand,  about  to  ride  on  his  way. 

In  frenzied  rage  he  shouted : 

“Let  my  braves  take  the  white  dog  alive  for  tor- 
ture!” 

“Ha ! as  I expected !”  cried  Buffalo  Bill,  and  his 
revolver  flashed  as  a young  medicine-man,  one  he  had 
cured  when  sick,  sprang  into  view. 

At  the  crack  of  the  weapon  the  medicine-man  went 
to  grass ; and  the  scout  knew  that  he  had  a desperate 
game  to  play. 

But  ere  he  could  fire  a second  shot  the  rattle  of 
revolvers  was  heard  from  above,  and  old  Death  Killer 


The  Fight  by  Proxy.  141 

sank  down  without  a word,  while  other  warriors  felt 
the  stinging  bullets  that  came  from  unseen  foes,  and  ini 
mad  dismay  they  bounded  up  the  canon  just  as  Buf- 
falo Bill  dropped  from  his  horse  and  lay  in  a heap 
upon  the  ground. 


CHAPTER  XL 

A TRIO  ON  A TRAIL. 

To  say  that  the  daring  act  of  Buffalo  Bill  created  a 
sensation  when  it  leaked  out  where  he  had  gone  and 
for  what  purpose  would  be  to  draw  it  mildly. 

Paul  Monkton,  as  the  old  ranchero’s  nephew  con- 
sented to  be  called  at  his  uncle’s  request,  visited  the 
fort,  and  there  heard  of  the  scout’s  mission.* 

On  his  way  back  to  the  ranch  he  stopped  overnight 
at  his  uncle’s.  Of  course,  it  deeply  distressed  both 
the  major  and  Janette,  and  cast  a gloom  upon  the 
little  household,  for  outside  of  the  fear  that  the  scout 
would  be  killed  by  the  Indians,  was  the  dread  of  his 
falling  a victim  to  the  dreaded  plague. 

As  the  days  passed  on  at  the  fort,  and  the  Indians 
idid  not  come  upon  their  expected  raid,  Major  Benteen 
felt  assured  that  Buffalo  Bill  had  safely  entered  their 
village,  though  what  might  follow  no  one  could 
(guess. 


A Trio  On  a Trail. 


143 

One  day  Night  Hawk  Powell  went  to  the  major 
and  asked  permission  to  go  off  on  a scout. 

“Do  you  go  alone,  Powell?” 

“No,  sir;  my  brother  Will  accompanies  me.” 

“He  is  here,  then?” 

“Yes,  sir;  he  came  up  from  the  ranch  this  morn- 
ing and  we  concluded  to  look  up  Buffalo  Bill.” 

“You  are  at  liberty  to  take  other  scouts,  and,  if  you 
like,  Captain  Burt  will  go  with  you  with  a couple  of 
companies.” 

“Thank  you,  Major  Benteen,  but  it  would  not  be 
wise,  for  they  might  contract  the  disease  that  is  now; 
ravaging  the  Indian  camps,  and  a small  force  would! 
do  no  good,  while  a large  force  cannot  be  had.  Will 
and  myself  will  go  alone,  and  see  what  is  the  exact  sit- 
uation of  affairs.” 

“Well,  Powell,  I am  glad  to  have  you  go,  for  I 
have  wanted  to  know,  but  woukl  not  ask  you  to  take 
such  a risk.  When  will  you  start  ?” 

“Within  an  hour,  sir,  and  I will  stop  at  Monkton 
Ranch  for  supper,  and  breakfast  with  the  major’s 
nephew,  so  if  there  is  any  mail  for  the  ranches  we 
will  carry  it.” 


4 


144  s A Trio  On  a Trail. 

“No,  there  is  nothing- ; but  good-by,  and  luck  go 
with  you.” 

That  evening  Major  Monkton  had  the  two  brothers 
to  supper  with  him,  and  Paul  Monkton  was  also  pres- 
ent, and  knowing  their  mission  insisted  on  accompany- 
ing them. 

Night  Hawk,  under  the  circumstances,  could  raise 
no  objection,  and  Broncho  Bill  whispered: 

“Buffalo  Bill  says  that  he  has  a world  of  pluck,  and 
is  a perfect  plainsman,  so  I say  yes.” 

“All  right,  Mr.  Monkton,  we  would  be  glad  to  have 
you  go;  but  the  danger  will  be  great.” 

“That  I do  not  care  for,  and,  if  you  say  so,  ride 
over  with  me  to-night,  and  we  will  get  a sunrise  start 
from  my  ranch  in  the  morning,”  said  the  young  and 
handsome  ranchero. 

This  plan  was  decided  upon,  and  with  best  wishes 
from  the  major  and  Janette,  the  three  men  departed 
upon  their  dangerous  errand  to  invade  the  Indian 
country. 

Acquainted  with  every  foot  of  the  way,  Night 
Hawk  acted  as  guide,  after  leaving  the  young 


A Trio  On  a Trail. 


145 

ranchero’s  home,  just  as  the  sun  arose  the  following 
morning. 

They  were  all  mounted  on  their  best  horses,  car- 
ried an  extra  animal  with  stores  and  ammunition, 
and  an  animal  trained  to  follow  and  keep  well  up  with 
his  mounted  companions. 

Going  cautiously  they  at  last  struck  the  hill  coun- 
try, and  then  camped,  watching  their  own  trail  to  see 
if  they  had  been  seen  and  were  being  followed. 

But  they  saw  no  signs  of  redskins  about,  and  once 
more  started  on  their  way,  penetrating  surely  but 
slowly  into  the  dangerous  Indian  country,  and  at  a 
pace  that  would  not  fatigue  their  horses,  so  that  they 
would  not  be  ready  when  called  on  to  go. 

In  this  progress  several  days  passed,  and  still  no 
signs  of  redskins  about  were  discovered. 

“It  is  very  evident  that  there  is  great  trouble  in  the 
Indian  village,  or  they  would  be  scouting  and  hunt- 
ing through  here  in  numbers,”  said  Broncho  Bill. 

“Yes,  there’s  something  up  there;  but  we’ll  hunt  a 
secure  hiding-place,  go  into  camp,  and  then  I’ll  scout 
closer  to  the  village  on  foot,  leaving  you,  Will,  and 
Mr.  Monkton  in  camp  to  fall  back  on,”  remarked 


146  A Trio  On  a Trail. 

Night  Hawk  George,  and  the  three  set  out  in  search 
of  the  desired  camp. 

Their  lucky  star  led  them  to  the  top  of  a ridge, 
almost  inaccessible,  and  pierced  through  by  a canon. 
The  summit  of  the  ridge  was  sheltered  by  a thick 
growth  of  trees,  and  in  a ravine  was  found  a spring 
that  sent  a trickling  stream  into  the  canon  below. 

Grass  was  in  abundance,  the  water  was  pure,  and 
the  position  was  just  such  as  three  men  of  their  ilk 
could  hold  against  half  a hundred  attacking  them. 

“You  look  as  though  you  had  come  to  stay, 
George,”  said  Paul  Monkton,  addressing  Night  Hawk, 
who  was  cutting  down  saplings  with  his  knife,  and 
preparing  to  build  a shanty. 

“I  have  come  to  stay  until  I know  whether  Bill  is 
alive  or  dead,”  was  the  answer. 

“If  alive,  we’ll  stay  until  we  get  him  free;  if  dead, 
we’ll  camp  right  here  until  we  avenge  him,”  coolly 
answered  Broncho  Bill,  and  his  handsome  blue  eyes 
burned  with  feeling  until  they  appeared  black. 

Then  the  three  men  went  to  work  with  a will,  and 
by  nightfall  had  erected  not  only  a comfortable 


A Trio  On  a Trail. 


147 

shanty,  but  a very  fair  little  fort,  as  a protection  for 
themselves  and  horses  if  driven  to  it. 

“How  far  is  it  to  Wolf  Fang’s  village  from  here, 
Night  Hawk?”  asked  the  young  ranchero. 

“I  will  tell  you  the  exact  distance  when  I return 
to  breakfast  in  the  morning,”  answered  the  scout  as 
he  made  his  preparations  to  take  the  trail  alone, 
i To  Will  Powell  there  seemed  no  necessity  of  a 
guard  being  kept  by  night  over  their  little  camp,  for 
they  had  approached  the  ridge  by  a watercourse  that 
covered  their  trail,  leaving  no  track  behind  them,  and 
the  Indians  would  not  certainly  happen  up  there  in 
the  darkness. 

They  had  arranged  a plan  for  their  fire,  to  cook  by 
night,  so  that  the  light  was  hidden,  and  there  would, 
therefore,  be  no  smoke  by  day  to  be  discerned  afar 

off. 

Shortly  after  Night  Hawk  Powell  departed  upon 
his  night  scout  Broncho  Bill  and  Paul  Monkton 
turned  in,  and  were  not  long  in  having  slumber  come 
to  them. 

With  nothing  to  disturb  them  they  slept  until 
arousal  by  the  return  of  the  scout  at  dawn.  Night 


*•  \ . ■ 

148  A Trio  On  a Trail. 

Hawk  had  evidently  had  a night  of  it,  and  looked 
wearied. 

As  it  was  not  yet  good  light,  his  brother  quickly 
built  a fire  and  gave  him  a cup  of  strong  coffee,  which 
greatly  refreshed  him. 

“Well,  Night  Hawk,  what  discoveries?”  asked  the 
ranchero,  seemingly  impatient  to  know  all. 

“I  will  tell  you,  now  that  I have  rested  a little;  but 
I have  had  a hard  night  of  it.” 

“You  look  it,  George,”  said  Broncho  Bill. 

“Well,  Buffalo  Bill  is  alive.” 

“Thank  God!”  ejaculated  Broncho  Bill,  while  the 
ranchero  said : 

“That  is  glad  tidings,  and  half  the  battle.” 

“Yes;  he  is  alive  and  well,  for  I was  within  a hun- 
dred feet  of  him.  You  see,  I made  my  way  to  the 
Indian  village,  around  by  the  northern  hills,  so  that 
it  was  a long  jaunt;  but  I felt  that  I could  approach 
with  more  safety  from  that  direction,  and  I did  not 
wish  to  be  seen  and  spoil  all. 

“I  saw  Bill  in  his  teepee,  and  then  he  left  it  and 
seemed  to  go  the  rounds  of  the  village.  I watched 
him  by  the  light  of  the  different  fires,  and  saw  him 


A Trio  On  a Trail 


149 


return  to  the  teepee.  I intended  to  risk  it  and  go 
there,  but  saw  the  chief,  Wolf  Fang,  enter,  and  so 
gave  it  up. 

“After  a long  wait  I concluded  to  return,  for  I was 
satisfied  that  Bill  was  not  a prisoner  in  the  village,  but, 
on  the  contrary,  as  a white  medicine-chief  was  looked 
upon  as  a great  mogul.  Anyhow,  we  will  wait  a few 
days  and  see  what  turns  up,  and  then  I will  make  an- 
other scout  and  try  and  communicate  with  him  in  some 
way.  But  I tell  you,  next  time  I’ll  go  on  horseback, 
for  that  was  the  roughest  road  on  foot  I ever 
traveled.” 

And  in  that  little  camp  several  days  passed  away, 
and  the  three  men  saw  no  sign  of  Indians,  and  Night 
Hawk  had  made  up  his  mind  to  go  on  the  following 
night  again  to  the  Indian  village. 

The  next  morning,  just  after  dawn,  they  were 
awakened  by  the  sound  of  hoofs,  and  then  of  voices. 
Instantly  they  were  on  the  alert,  and  it  did  not  take 
them  long  to  discover  that  quite  a party  of  Indians  had 
halted  in  the  canon  below. 

Watching  them  from  their  point  of  observation, 
they  saw  two  warriors  ride  off  with  the  ponies  of  tlie 


A Trio  On  a Trail. 


150 

entire  party,  and  disappear  from  sight  farther  dowr 
the  canon. 

“They  are  planning  an  ambush,”  said  Night  Hawk. 

“Who  is  there  to  ambush?”  asked  the  ranchero. 

“That  I do  not  know;  but  the  old  white-haired  In- 
dian with  straggling  gray  beard  I know.” 

“Who  is  he?” 

“Death  Killer,  the  big  medicine  of  the  tribe.” 

“What  can  he  want  here?” 

“I  guess  he’s  laying  for  Bill,  who  may  be  starting 
for  home,  after  showing  the  tribe  old  Death  Killer 
didn’t  know  beans  when  the  bag  was  opened,”  said 
Broncho  Bill. 

“Ah,  you  think  he  may  mean  to  get  even?” 

“It  looks  as  though  he  meant  to  get  even  with 
somebody,  for  he  has"  sent  the  ponies  off  with  two 
warriors.  Do  you  want  that  job,  Will?” 

“To  take  in  the  horses?” 

“Yes.” 

“I’ll  take  it,”  was  the  cool  reply. 

“But  they  have  two  warriors  as  guards,”  urged  thv 
ranchero. 

“That  is*  all  right.  I’ll  get  their  scalps  ' !h 


A Trio  On  a Trail. 


151 

the  ponies,”  answered  Will  Powell,  and  there  was  not 
the  slightest  hint  of  braggadocio  about  his  manner. 

“Well,  you  see  they  are  hiding  in  the  thicket,  so  see 
what, -can  be  done  with  the  ponies,  and,  if  nothing, 
come  back,  as  we  may  need  you  here,  Will.” 

“I’ll  not  be  long  gone,”  was  the  reply,  and  Broncho 
Bill  started  off. 

In  an  hour  he  returned  to  where  his  brother  and 
the  ranchero  lay,  looking  over  into  the  canon,  and 
showed  not  a trace  of  having  been  in  any  scene  of 
excitement. 

Night  Hawk  simply  nodded  and  asked  no  questions, 
but  the  ranchero  was  curious  and  said : 

“Well,  you  are  back.” 

“Yes.” 

“Did  you  get  the  ponies?” 

“Every  one  of  them.” 

“And  the  Indians?” 

Broncho  Bill  made  no  reply,  but  held  up  two  freshly 
taken  scalps. 

“Ah!  how  did  you  do  it?” 

“Crept  close  and  used  my  bow  and  arrow  on  them, 
for  I did  not  wish  to  fire  a shot.” 


153.  ~'ras,'v~  A Trio  On  a Trail. 

“And  the  ponies  ?” 

“I  drove  them  out  of  the  canon  and  around  to  a 
spot  not  far  from  here,  where  I left  them  for  future 
reference.  Seen  any  new  signs,  George?” 

Before  Night  Hawk  could  reply  a horseman  sud- 
denly came  in  sight. 

From  the  position  they  held,  the  watchers  could  not 
see  him  until  he  was  upon  the  Indians  almost,  and  old 
Death  Killer  stepped  forth  and  confronted  him. 

The  horseman  was  Buffalo  Bill,  and  what  occurred 
between  the  Indian  medicine-man  and  the  scout  those 
on  the  ridge  heard. 

When  the  attack  began  on  the  scout  the  three 
joined  in  above  from  their  place  of  concealment,  with 
a result  already  known. 

Taken  wholly  by  surprise,  the  Indians  were  be- 
wildered by  fright,  and  seeing  old  Death  Killer  go 
down,  they  broke  away  like  a herd  of  frightened 
deer,  rushing  through  the  canon,  back  the  way  they 
had  come,  and  depending  wholly  upon  their  heels  for 
safety. 

As  quickly  as  they  could  get  their  horses  ready  the 


A Trio  On  a Trail.  153 

three  men  mounted  and  rode  swiftly  down  to  the 
spot  where  the  scene  had  occurred. 

They  found  lying  there  the  old  medicine-chief  and 
the  braves  who  had  fallen  with  him,  while  Buffalo  Bill 
was  standing  up,  his  hand  to  his  head,  and  his  face 
stained  with  blood.  \ 

"Well,  pards,  you  did  the  work  well  on  the  redskins, 
and  well-nigh  finished  me,  for  one  of  your  shots  struck 
me  here,  and  the  hardness  of  my  thick  skull  alone 
turned  the  bullet.” 

As  he  spoke  he  displayed  a gash  on  the  side  of  his 
head  where  a bullet  had  cut  its  way,  inflicting  a scalp- 
wound  that  had  momentarily  stunned  him  with  the 
concussion. 

“That  was  a close  call  from  death,  Bill,  but  the 
bullet  must  have  struck  something  else,  and,  glancing, 
hit  you,  for  all  of  us,  you  know,  are  not  men  to  send 
a ball  other  than  where  we  aim,”  said  Night  Hawk. 

"Yes,  I know  each  shot  I fired,  and ” 

"Thank  Heaven,  it  is  no  worse,”  quickly  added  the 
ranchero,  and  then  the  scout  put  in  with : 

"Don’t  mind  it,  boys,  for  the  wound  is  nothing; 


A Trio  On  a Trail. 


154 

but  you  came  just  when  I needed  you,  and  saved  me 
from  being  wiped  out,  too.  Looking  me  up,  I guess.” 

“Yes,  we  wanted  to  see  what  had  become  of  you; 
but  I move  we  travel  now  and  talk  as  we  go,  for  this 
neighborhood  is  not  healthy,”  said  Will  Powell. 

This  advice  was  at  once  taken,  the  party  mounting 
and  moving  off,  and,  after  stopping  for  the  Indian 
ponies,  they  pushed  on  at  a rapid  pace  for  the  secret 
retreat  where  Buffalo  Bill  determined  to  remain  until 
all  fear  of  contagion  from  smallpox  was  over. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


THE  MIDNIGHT  VISITOR. 

Nothing  could  have  been  safer,  or  more  retired, 
than  the  secret  retreat  of  the  scout  in  the  hills  miles 
from  the  nearest  house  of  a white  man. 

It  was  reached  by  turning  off  of  a trail  into  a water- 
course, and  continuing  along  the  bed  of  the  stream  for 
a mile  to  its  source,  which  was  in  a wild  and  pic- 
turesque spot. 

Here  the  scout  had  established  a cache,  or  hiding- 
place  for  supplies,  long  before,  and  here  it  was  that 
he  intended  to  exile  himself  for  a while  until  all  dan- 
ger was  over  from  his  causing  a spread  of  the  plague 
among  those  with  whom  he  might  come  in  contact. 

After  camping  one  night  with  him  the  Powells  and 
the  ranchero  left  him  in  his  solitude. 

It  was  by  no  means  an  unpleasant  camping-ground, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  one  to  seek,  for  it  had  been  occu- 
pied at  I’T-ent  times  before,  until  a shanty  had  been 


„ S' 


156  The  Midnight  Visitor. 

built  and  other  additions  made  to  render  it  most  com- 
fortable. 

With  some  books  he  took  from  his  supplies,  the 
scout  managed  to  while  away  the  time  when  he  was 
not  hunting,  cooking,  or  sleeping. 

One  night  he  retired  to  his  shelter  earlier  than 
usual,  for  a storm  was  sweeping  down  with  the  dark- 
ness. His  shanty  was  waterproof,  however,  and  with 
a rush-lamp  he  sat  there  reading  when  the  storm 
broke  in  all  its  fury. 

Tired  of  reading  and  lulled  by  the  moaning  winds 
and  pattering  rain,  he  threw  aside  his  book  and  pre- 
pared to  wrap  himself  in  his  blanket  for  a sound 
sleep,  when  his  ears  caught  a sound  that  caused  him 
at  once  to  put  out  his  light  and  seize  his  weapons. 

Again  the  sound  was  repeated,  and  it  sounded  like 
the  chirp  of  a bird.  Again  came  a sound,  and  this 
time  it  was  the  whining  of  a dog.  The  scout  knew 
that  the  sounds  were  made  by  a human  being.  But 
who  could  it  be? 

It  must  be  some  one  who  knew  of  his  retreat,  yet 
feared  to  approach  openly.  With  this  idea  Buffalo 
Bill  answered  the  sound  by  repeating  it. 


The  Midnight  Visitor.  157 

“Pard  Bill !”  came  in  a voice  from  beyond  the 
thicket. 

“Aye,  aye.  Come  on,  whoever  you  are,”  answered 
the  scout. 

“I  are  a friend.” 

“Seeing  is  believing. 

“Come  on!”  was  the  response,  and  Buffalo  Bill  sat 
with  his  revolvers  ready  to  greet  a foe. 

A moment  later  a tall  form  advanced  from  the 
thicket  and  came  straight  toward  the  shanty. 

“Are  you  alone?” 

“Yes,  Bill.” 

“Ah!  it  is  you,  Dead  Knife  Jim?” 

“It  are  me,  Pard  Bill.” 

“Come  in  out  of  the  rain,  and  I’ll  make  you  com- 
fortable. But  what  in  thunder  brings  you  here  ?” 

“I  comes  in  thunder  and  rain,  too,  Pard  Bill,  but  I 
comes  alone,  an’  it  are  ter  hev  a leetle  chat  with 
you.” 

“Going  to  turn  honest,  eh  ?” 

“No,  I hain’t  goin’  ter  do  thet,  Bill ; but  let  me  go 
an’  fetch  my  crittur,  which  I left  down  the  stream, 


158 


The  Midnight  Visitor, 


an’  then  I’ll  come  back  an’  tell  yer  why  yer  must  git 
out  of  this,  fer  ther  wolves  is  on  yer  track.” 

“Indeed?” 

“Fact.” 

“Well,  I’ll  not  cover  up  my  trail,  Jim;  but  go  now 
and  fetch  your  horse  and  put  him  under  the  shelter 
with  mine,  for  there  is  ample  room,  and  this  is  a cruel 
night.  In  the  meantime  I will  strike  a light  and  build 
a fire  to  give  you  some  supper,  and  I can  find  you 
something  dry  to  put  on,  for  you  are  as  wet  as  water.” 

Dead  Knife  Jim  disappeared,  while  the  scout,  after 
hastily  lighting  the  fire,  over  which  a roof  had  been 
built,  threw  an  oilskin  cloak  over  his  shoulders  and 
stepped  quickly  back  to  the  shelter  where  he  kept  his 
horse. 

Here  he  stood  watching  and  waiting,  ready  to  match 
deviltry  with  prompt  action,  if  the  outlaw  was  play- 
ing him  false. 

But  Dead  Knife  Jim  soon  appeared,  leading  his 
horse,  and  the  animal  seemed  most  glad  to  get  into  a 
dry  shelter,  and  find  an  armful  of  cut  grass  for  his 
supper. 

“Now,  ’"m,  I can  look  after  you,”  said  scout. 


The  Midnight  Visitor.  159 

“Suspicioned  me,  didn’t  you,  Bill?”  remarked  the 
outlaw  slyly. 

“Yes,  Jim.” 

“Don’t  blame  yer,  an’  ef  1 d meant  wrong  I’d  got 
bored,  sart’in,  fer  I thought  yer  was  in  yer  cabing.” 

Buffalo  Bill  now  led  the  way  into  his  shanty  and 
gave  the  strange  visitor  some  dry  clothing  and  set 
about  cooking  supper  for  him. 

Dead  Knife  Jim  ate  with  evident  relish  and  then 
said : 

“They  tell  me  you  has  turned  Injun,  Bill.” 

“Yes.” 

“Big  Medicine  o’  ther  Sioux?” 

“Yes,  I attended  them  through  a plague.” 

“Had  better  let  ’em  died.” 

“If  it  had  been  your  gang  perhaps  I would  have 
done  so.” 

“No,  guess  not ; for  you  hes  it  in  yer  ter  medicine 
up  a snake  ef  it  strikes  yer  pity;  but  Injuns  is  no 
good.” 

“And  outlaws!” 

“Waal,  yer  hes  me  thar;  but,  Pard  Bill,  you  is  in 

danger.” 


160  The  Midnight  Visitor. 

“I  know  that,  Jim.” 

“Yer  don’t  know  what  I knows.” 

“How  can  I,  if  you  do  not  tell  me?” 

“I  intends  ter  tell  yer,  fer  that  are  why  I hev  corned 
here.” 

“Well,  out  with  it.” 

“Yer  layout  here  are  known.” 

“So  it  seems,  as  you  found  it/'  \ 

“And  Cap’n  Kit  knows  it.” 

“Indeed?” 

“Fact.” 

“How  did  he  find  it  out  ?” 

“He  has  ways  of  knowin’  things  thet  I can’t  git 
onter  exactly.  But  ther  talk  jist  now  is  how  you 
sakificed  yerse’f  fer  them  Injuns  an'  run  ther  risk  o’ 
bein’  kilt,  scalpt  and  smallpox’d.  Then  it  are  known 
thet  you  is  layin’  here,  waitin’  fer  ther  contamination 
ter  git  off  of  yer  afore  yer  returns  ter  ther  fort.” 

“Well?” 

“So  ther  cap’n  he  put  a leetle  job  ter  come  heur 
an’  just  wipe  yer  out.” 


- z' 


The  Midnight  Visitor.  161 

“You  know  that?” 

“I  does.” 

“Tell  me  more  about  it,  please.” 

“I’ll  do  it. 

“Yer  see,  I heerd  ther  cap’n  layin’  a plan  with  eight 
o’  ther  boys  ter  go  with  him  ter  this  place.” 

“He  thinks  it  will  take  nine  to  kill  me  ?” 

“Jist  about;  fer  he  is  acquainted  with  yer.  So  I 
heerd  ’em  talk  it  over,  an’  ther  cap’n  takes  out  a leetle 
map  he  had  drawed,  an’  showed  ’em  jist  whar  you  was 
an’  how  ter  reach  it. 

“I  l’ams  when  they  is  ter  start,  an’  I manages  ter 
see  ther  map,  an’  next  day  I ask’d  ther  cap’n  ef  I 
c’u’dn’t  run  courier  fer  him  ter  ther  station,  fer  yer 
knows  he  sends  a man  thar  every  week  fer  news  o’ 
trains  a-comin’,  an’  which  his  spies  keeps  him  posted 
on. 

“I  told  him  my  arm  war  a-hurtin’  me,  an’  I wanted 
ter  consult  a doctor  o’  physics  regardin'  it,  an  c’u’d 
fetch  back  his  mail.  So  he  lets  me  go,  an’  I jist  conies 
a-tearin’  here  ter  tell  you.” 

“You  are  certainly  my  friend,  Jim.” 

. “I  am  fer  a fact.  Bill.” 

* 


1 62  The  Midnight  Visitor. 

“When  must  1 expect  them  ?” 

“Ter-morrer  night,  I guess.” 

“And  you  found  your  way  here  from  his  descrip- 
tion ?” 

“I  did,  Bill.” 

“Well,  Jim,  they’ll  find  the  bird  flown,  and  the  nest 
empty,  for  I intended  to  depart  to-morrow,  although 
it  would  be  sooner  than  I said  I would  leave ; but  I am 
convinced  there  is  no  danger  to  any  one  now  that  I 
should  meet,  and  I expect  to  hunt  along  lively  on  my 
way  back.  But  I appreciate  what  you  have  don^ 
Jim.” 

: “Don’t  sing  thet  tune,  Bill,  fer  I doesn’t  want  no 

I thanks;  but  how  w’u’d  it  do  ter  light  out  o’  here  jist 
1 arter  daybreak,  fer  this  rain  are  goin’  ter  continue,  1 
guesses,  all  ter-morrer,  an’  our  trail  will  be  washed 
out,  an’  can’t  be  follered,  an’  I hain’t  hopin’  ter  hew 
Captain  Hyena  know  I hes  been  visitin’  ther  wrong 
doctor.” 

“And  your  ?rm,  does  it  give  you  pain,  Jim  ?” 

“No,  sir,  it  are  serene  as  silk,  an’  I hardly  misses 
it.  Sometime  arter  I losed  it,  I did  feel  a leetle  blue, 
an’  thought  I’d  look  up  ther  grave  whar  my  a rm  were 


The  Midnight  Visitor.  163 

planted,  an’  weep  o’  its  mem’ry;  but  then  I got  over 
thet  feelin’  as  a feller  might  who  hed  lost  a mother-in- 
law.  But  shall  we  light  out  in  ther  mornin’  ?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then  let’s  snooze,  Bill,  fer  I is  half-asleep,”  and 
five  minutes  after  the  scout  and  the  outlaw  wrere 
wrapped  in  their  blankets,  the  former  wide-awake, 
for  he  was  yet  suspicious  of  his  outlaw  friend. 

But  the  morning  broke  without  disturbance,  break- 
fast was  gotten  ready,  and  then  the  two  men  mounted 
their  horses  and  rode  away  in  the  rain,  which  still  fell 
in  torrents. 

Toward  noon  the  storm  broke,  and  the  sun  came 
out.  Then  the  two  halted  for  the  mid-day  rest,  and 
Dead  Knife  Jim  went  on  alone,  the  scout  determining 
to  camp  there  until  the  following  day.  He  parted 
with  the  outlaw  in  a friendly  manner,  and  said : 

‘Well,  Jim,  I can  only  say  that  you  have  got  too 
big  a heart  to  be  such  a rascal,  and  I can  only  repay 
your  kindness  by  saving  your  neck  some  day  when  you 
get  the  hangman  after  you.” 

“Dont  fergit  it,  Bill,  ef  thet  kind  o’  a pilgrim  do  gel 


164  The  Midnight  Visitor. 

his  clutch  on  me  some  time.  But  good  luck  to  yer, 
an’  far’well.” 

| With  this,  Dead  Knife  Jim  rode  on  his  way  across 
the  prairie. 

At  this  point  the  prairie  was  dotted  with  numerous 
little  “timber  islands,”  from  an  acre  to  three  acres  in 
size,  and  one  of  these  the  scout  had  chosen  as  his 
camp. 

! Killing  an  antelope  and  some  other  game,  he  made 
himself  comfortable,  and  retired  to  rest  when  night 
came  with  the  glad  feeling  that  the  next  afternoon 
would  find  him  among  friends. 

He  had  been  asleep  an  hour,  perhaps,  when  he 
awoke  with  the  glimmer  of  a light  in  his  face. 
Quickly  he  was  upon  his  feet,  to  discover  that  a camp- 
fire had  just  been  built  in  one  of  the  little  timber  is- 
lands about  half  a mile  distant. 

“Whoever  they  are,  they  do  not  fear  foes  near,  evi- 
dently,” he  said,  and  he  watched  the  fire  for  a long 
time,  until  it  died  away  into  a glimmer. 

He  had  seen  through  the  trees  forms  moving  to 
and  fro,  yet  could  not  distinguish  who  they  were.  De- 


The  Midnight  Visitor.  165 

termined  to  depart  before  dawn,  he  again  threw  him- 
self down  to  rest. 

But  from  some  cause  he  overslept  himself,  some- 
thing he  never  did  when  danger  was  abroad,  and 
awoke  with  a start,  to  find  it  broad  daylight  and  the 
sun  just  appearing  above  the  horizon. 

His  first  glance  was  in  the  direction  of  the  timber 
where  he  had  seen  the  fire  the  night  before.  Instantly 
his  eyes  fell  upon  a party  of  horsemen,  just  leaving 
the  timber  and  coming  directly  toward  him. 

One  look  was  sufficient  to  show  just  who  they  were. 
There  were  nine  in  the  party,  and  the  one  in  advance 
wore  a crimson  mask. 

They  were  Captain  Kit,  the  Red  Angel,  and  his 
men. 

Their  destination,  Buffalo  Bill  knew,  was  his  re- 
treat, and  their  way  led  them  right  by  the  timber, 
where  they  could  not  fail  to  see  him. 

The  storm  had  delayed  them  a day  doubtless,  in 
their  intended  secret  attack  on  him,  which  Dead  Knife 
Jim  had  made  known. 

To  spring  to  the  side  of  his  horse,  throw  the  pack- 
saddle  upon  one  and  his  own  saddle  upon  the  other. 


166  The  Midnight  Visitor. 

was  the  work  of  a few  moments.  Then  the  animals 
were  watered  at  the  spring,  and  the  scout  mounted 
and  rode  out  of  the  timber  upon  the  other  side. 

He  did  not  seek  a conflict,  and  knew  that 'eight 
men,  led  by  Captain  Kit,  were  to  be  dreaded  and 
avoided.  But  he  hardly  expected  to  keep  out  of  their 
sight,  though  he  made  an  effort  to  do  so,  by  keeping 
the  timber  between  him  and  them. 

In  this,  however,  he  had  nearly  succeeded,  when  one 
of  the  outlaws  chanced  to  drop  his  hat,  and,  dis- 
mounting to  pick  it  up,  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  scout 
making  haste  across  the  prairie,  having  almost  escaped 
their  observation. 

His  yell  attracted  the  attention  of  all,  and  a chorus 
of  cheers  broke  forth  from  their  lips  as  they  caught 
sight  of  the  very  man  they  were  going  to  attack. 

“There  is  our  game,  men ; press  on  after  him !” 
yelled  Captain  Kit,  and  seating  themselves  well  in  their 
saddles,  the  outlaws  at  once  began  the  chase. 

Buffalo  Bill  was  hardly  over  a quarter  of  a mile 
from  them,  and,  seeing  himself  discovered,  he  at  once 
set  off  in  a swift  gallop,  his  led  horse  following  close 
behind  the  heels  of  his  equine  companion.  Seeing 


The  Midnight  Visitor.  167 

that  the  outlaws  were  pressing  him  hard  and  gaining, 
the  scout  urged  his  animals  to  greater  speed,  and  thus 
held  his  own. 

But  the  Red  Angels  were  determined  to  capture  the 
famous  scout,  and  were  urged  on  by  offers  of  large 
rewards  by  Captain  Kit,  so  that  their  horses  were 
spurred  cruelly  on  in  the  hot  chase. 

Buffalo  Bill  found  that  both  of  his  horses  were  good 
ones,  but  the  pack-animal  held  back  a little,  or  other- 
wise he  would  have  dropped  his  pursuers.  He  did  not 
care  to  lose  the  animal,  so  he  clung  to  him,  determined 
to  fight  rather  than  ride  on  and  leave  the  horse. 

The  outlaws  seemed  to  realize  this,  and  still  came 
on  at  the  same  killing  pace,  which  caused  them  to 
steadily  gain  a trifle.  In  this  way  mile  after  mile  was 
gone  over,  and  a couple  or  more  hours  passed. 

In  this  time  the  outlaws  had  decreased  the  distance 
between  them  and  the  scout  about  one-half,  and  it 
Seemed  that  they  must  soon  come  within  range. 

By  leaving  his  led  horse,  Buffalo  Bill  felt  that  he 
iwas  safe,  for  the  animal  he  bestrode  still  ran  steadily 
and  strong,  and  did  not  show  the  signs  of  failing 
(which  the  other  did.  Looking  back  closely,  he  saw 


i68  The  Midnight  Visitor. 

that  the  horses  of  his  pursuers  were  also  showing  signs 
of  distress,  and  he  felt  no  anxiety  as  to  the  result. 

But  the  outlaws,  still  pressing  nearer,  the  Red  Angel 
chief  was  seen  to  suddenly  halt,  spring  from  his  horse, 
throw  his  rifle  across  his  saddle,  and  fire. 

“Too  bad!”  said  Buffalo  Bill,  as  he  saw  his  led 
horse  fall  heavily. 

But  in  an  instant  he  had  dismounted,  cut  loose  the 
pack  from  his  back,  thrown  it  behind  his  own  saddle, 
and  again  started  on  in  his  race  for  life. 

The  halt,  however,  had  caused  him  to  lose  valuable 
time,  and  the  Red  Angels  crept  up  alarmingly.  He 
knew  now  that  he  was  within  range. 

The  scout  expected  each  moment  to  see  the  chief 
halt  and  try  another  shot. 

“Two  hours  more  at  this  rate  will  bring  me  to 
Monkton  Ranch ; but  the  horse  can  never  keep  up  this 
killing  pace. 

“Ha!  they  are  knifing  their  horses  to  urge  them  on.” 

This  cruel  process  had  the  effect  of  driving  the 
horses  more  rapidly,  and  the  scout  saw  that  they  were 
in  deadly  earnest  in  their  pursuit,  and  now  gaining 
rapidly. 


The  Midnight  Visitor.  169 

“I’ll  have  to  draw  up  soon  and,  fight  it  out,  that  is 
certain.  I’ll  take  that  ridge  for  it,”  he  said,  coolly,  his 
eyes  falling  upon  a rise  of  the  prairie  a few  hundred 
yards  beyond. 

He  now  found  that  he  had  to  aid  and  steady  his  tired 
horse  some  with  the  reins,  for  the  animal  was  going 
at  a pace  that  he  could  not  stand  long. 

But  up  the  prairie  slope  he  went,  and  reaching  the 
top  of  the  rise  the  scout  suddenly  drew  rein,  sprang  to 
the  ground,  and  seized  his  rifle. 

, Just  then,  before  he  could  swing  it  around  from  his 
back,  a ringing  cheer  was  heard  upon  his  right,  and 
there  came  dashing  toward  him  a party,  the  sight  of 
whom  brought  a war-cry  from  his  lips. 

The  outlaws  also  saw  this  party,  and  halting  sud- 
denly, massed  themselves  together  and  began  to  retreat 
at  a slow  trot. 

The  party  that  had  so  suddenly  come  upon  the  scene 
was  a peculiar  one. 

The  prairie  sloped  away  beyond  the  rise  into  what 
was  almost  a ravine,  or,  more  properly  speaking,  a 
vale,  and  up  this  came  at  a gallop  those  who  had  at- 


170  The  Midnight  Visitor. 

tracted  the  attention  of  Buffalo  Bill,  and  also  caused 
the  Red  Angels  to  turn  about  and  move  doggedly  off. 

Under  other  circumstances  the  Red  Angel  chief; 
might  have  dared  a conflict  with  those  who  appeared, 
for  his  men  were  thoroughly  trained  to  meet  any  foe 
in  battle,  and  often  had  to  fight  against  fearful  odds. 

But  he  had  driven  his  horses  hard,  and  they  were 
too  fagged  out  to  think  of  his  catching  those  before 
him,  if  they  chose  to  fly  from  him  with  their  fresh 
animals,  while  they  could  ride  all  around  him  and 
worry  him,  did  they  so  desire. 

What  was  best  for  him  to  do,  therefore,  for  his  own 
safety,  he  did — retreat. 

The  scout  saw  the  outlaws  retire  with  a sullen 
smile,  and  then  turned  to  his  panting  horse  and  kindly 
took  off  the  saddle,  to  give  him  a good  breathing-spell. 
Hardly  had  he  done  this  when  up  'dashed  those  who 
had  so  changed  the  position  of  affairs. 

In  advance  was  none  other  than  Janette  Joslyn, 
looking  very  beautiful  in  her  close-fitting  habit  and 
sombrero,  and  sitting  upon  her  pony  with  the  air  of 
a perfect  horsewoman.  The  animal  was  a beautiful 
spotted  mustang,  which  she  had  won  by  killing  the  In- 


The  Midnight  Visitor.  171 

dian  chief  who  rode  him,  when  he  was  pursuing  her 
one  day,  and  she  was  proud  of  her  capture,  for  she 
knew  his  worth. 

About  her  waist  was  a belt  containing  a pair  of  re- 
volvers, a present  from  the  scout  to  her,  and  buckled 
to  her  saddle  on  one  side  was  a small  rifle,  and  she 
was  a dead  shot,  as  she  had  proven  more  than  once. 

At  her  back  rode  a dozen  horsemen.  They  were  all 
mounted  on  jet-black,  wiry  ponies  that  had  the  look 
of  go  and  endurance  in  them. 

And  the  riders  were  black,  too,  for  they  were  ne- 
groes, and  a daring,  dashing  set  of  fellows,  clad  in 
buckskin  hunting-shirt  and  leggings,  cavalry  boots, 
and  wearing  sombreros. 

All  of  them  were  armed  thoroughly  with  bowies, 
revolvers,  a rifle,  and  a lariat  each,  and  they  were  ex- 
perts in  the  use  of  them,  too.  These  were  the  black 
bravos,  as  they  were  often  called,  but  Major  Monkton 
called  them  his  black  cowboys,  and  the  redskins,  and 
outlaws,  too,  had  come  to  fear  them,  for  they  were 
desperate  fighters  if  brought  to  the  scratch,  and  as  a 
guard  they  were  a wholesome  warning  to  any  foes  who 
cared  to  attack  the  ranch  or  raid  its  cattle. 


172  The  Midnight  Visitor. 

“Oh,  Mr.  Cody!  how  glad  I am  to  see  you,”  cried 
Janette,  grasping  the  hand  of  the  scout  in  both  of 
her  own. 

“And  me,  too,”  called  out  Zip,  the  leader  of  the 
black  cowboys,  while  his  comrades  joined  in  with: 

“Yas,  massa,  mighty  glad.” 

“So  we  is,  sah.” 

“Now  you’s  talkin’,  fer  we  is  happy.” 

“You  bet  we  is  tickled,  massa,”  and  so  on,  until  each 
one  had  his  say  and  a grasp  of  the  scout's  hand. 

“And  let  me  say  that  I am  glad  to  see  you,  for  if 
you  had  not  arrived  as  you  did,  I guess  I’d  have  gone 
under;  but  you  are  not  afraid  of  catching  the  small- 
pox, Janette?”  and  the  scout’s  eyes  twinkled  slyly. 

“No,  sir,  I’m  so  glad  to  catch  you  that  I’d  be  willing 
to  take  the  smallpox  with  you.” 

“That  is  a pretty  speech,  and  I thank  you ; but  what 
are  you  doing  so  far  from  the  ranch,  Janette?” 

“Oh,  I wanted  to  have  a hunt,  and  the  major  sent 
the  boys  with  me.” 

“Yas,  Missy  Janette  am  our  captain  now,  sah.” 

“And  now  let  us  be  off,  for  yonder  rascals  must  not 
escape,”  and  Tanette  pointed  to  the  retreating  outlaws. 


The  Midnight  Visitor.  173 

"They  must  escape,  Janette,  for  it  would  never  do 
for  us  to  pursue  them,”  said  the  scout. 

"But  why  not  ?” 

"They  are  Captain  Hyena  and  his  Red  Angels.” 

"That  I know,  and  one,  two,  three — yes,  nine  of 
them,  and,  with  you,  fourteen  of  us.” 

"That  may  be,  but  to  kill  one  of  them  would  be  no 
loss,  while  for  you,  or  any  of  the  major’s  gallant  cow- 
boys to  fall  would  be  a bitter  blow.” 

“But  we  can  try  them  at  long  range,  at  least,”  urged 
Janette. 

"No,  let  them  go  this  time,  and  we  will  go  to  the 
ranch,  whither  I was  bound  when  those  fellows  made 
me  hurry  along.  Will  you  change  horses  with  me, 
for  your  light  weight  my  good  horse  will  not  feel,  and 
Zip,  I will  let  you  boys  divide  my  traps  between  you 
for  transportation.” 

This  was  done,  and  the  party  started  for  the  ranch, 
the  Red  Angels  now  being  far  off  upon  the  prairie. 

A ride  of  several  hours  brought  them  to  the  ranch, 
where  a warm  welcome  awaited  them  from  Ma:or 
Monkton,  the  scout  being  greeted  with  the  warm.!:  ih: 
old  ranchero  might  have  shown  to  a brother. 


174  The  Midnight  Visitor. 

The  following  day  Buffalo  Bill  went  on  his  way  to 
the  fort,  where  he  was  greeted  with  rousing  cheers 
by  officers  and  soldiers  alike,  for,  The  sentry  on  duty 
having  reported  him  in  sight,  coming  across  the 
prairie,  the  band  was  called  out  and  the  troops  drawn 
up  in  line  to  receive  him  as  one  who  had  proven  him- 
self far  more  than  an  ordinary  hero,  and  accomplished 
that  which  few  men  could  or  would  attempt  to  do. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


BUFFALO  BILL'S  BOLD  GAME. 

Several  days  after  the  return  of  the  scout  to  the  fort, 
he  was  coming  along  the  trail  one  afternoon  from 
Monkton  Ranch,  when  he  rode  into  a piece  of  timber 
to  discover  four  men  before  him. 

They  had  only  a moment  before  discovered  his  ap- 
proach, and  three  of  them  seemed  to  be  hurrying  up  a 
little  affair  they  were  anxious  to  get  off  their  hands 
with  the  quickest  despatch. 

The  situation  presented  to  the  eye  of  the  scout  was 
a strange  one,  and  certainly  a trying  one  for  the  parties 
immediately  concerned. 

That  a tragedy  was  about  to  be  enacted  Buffalo  Bill 
did  not  need  to  be  told,  for  he  saw  one  man  standing 
under  a.  tree,  and  about  his  neck  was  a lariat.  The 
other  end  of  the  lariat  was  thrown  over  the  branch 
of  a tree,  and  the  other  three  men  were  pulling  upon  it 
as  the  scout  appeared. 

Seeing  what  was  going  on,  the  scout  spun-M  quickly 


176  Buffalo  Bill’s  Bold  Game. 

to  the  spot,  and  by  one  pull  of  his  powerful  arm 
dragged  the  lariat  from  the  hands  of  those  who  held 
it,  while  he  cried  in  an  angry  tone : 

“By  Heaven,  men!  this  shall  not  be!’’ 

“But  he  desarves  it,  indeed  he  do,  sir,”  answered 
one  of  the  men. 

Buffalo  Bill  recognized  them  as  men  from  the  fort, 
whose  position  was  that  of  half- teams  ter,  half-scout, 
and  not  much  of  anything  in  particular. 

“He  may  deserve  hanging,  but  it  is  not  for  you  to 
become  his  executioners,”  was  the  stern  reply. 

“We  captured  him,  sir,  when  he  was  asleep.  We 
came  upon  him  and  took  him,  sir,  though  he  fought 
like  a tiger,  ef  he  hain’t  got  but  one  arm,  and  he’s  a 
Red  Angel.” 

“I  know  who  he  is  very  well ; he  is  Dead  Knife  Jim, 
of  Captain  Hyena’s  Red  Angel  band.” 

“That  are  my  name,  Pard  Bill,  an  ef  you  hedn’t 
arrove  when  yer  did  it  w’u’d  hev  hed  ter  be  put  on  a 
tombstone,  I’m  thinkin’,”  said  the  prisoner  coolly. 

“He  knows  whar  ther  band  hides  their  dust,  Buffalo 
Bill,  and  as  he  wouldn’t  tell  us,  we  just  was  going  to 
hang  him,  for  he  is  our  prize.” 


177 


Buffalo  Bill’s  Bold  Game. 

“Well,  I want  you  to  release  him,  men.” 

The  three  gazed  at  the  scout  in  amazement. 

“Release  him,  sir?”  gasped  one. 

“Yes,  for  he  has  saved  my  life,  yes,  more  than  once, 
and  I wish  to  do  as  much  for  him,  now  that  he  needs 
aid.” 

“He  has  a price  on  his  head,  sir.” 

“Yes,  he’s  worth  money.” 

“We  kin  git  ther  dust  fer  him  by  tamin’  him  over 
to  the  major,  sir,”  said  the  captors. 

“What  is  the  price  on  his  head?”  asked  Buffalo  Bill. 

“Don't  know,  adzackly,  sir;  does  you,  Tom?” 

“No,  I disremembers,  too;  but  you  knows,  don’t 
you,  Bill?” 

“No,  I disrecollects,  too.” 

“I  knows;  it  are  a thousand  dollars,  an’  I are  wuth 
more,”  said  Dead  Knife  Jim,  with  the  utmost  compla- 
cency. 

“Well,  you  don’t  expect  us  to  throw  the  thousand 
away,  sir?” 

“No,  for  I will  pay  you  that  sum  to  let  him  go.” 

“You,  sir?” 


178 


Buffalo  Bill’s  Bold  Game. 


“Yes,  I will  give  you  the  sum  to  divide  between  you 
upon  my  return  to  the  fort.” 

“But,  Mr.  Cody,  ther  man  oughter  hang,  an’'  it 
won’t  be  right  fer  us  to  let  him  go  while  you’d  get 
inter  trouble  fer  it.” 

“As  for  myself,  I take  all  responsibility,  and  need 
no  advice  from  you,  Bill  Lane,  or  your  comrades.  I 
offer  you  the  money,  and  you  have  but  to  refuse  or 
accept.” 

“I  decline  it,  sir.” 

“And  me.” 

“If  we  took  him  in,  sir,”  said  the  third,  “I  think 
we’d  get  more.” 

“Thet’s  so,  he  are  worth  more,  as  he  just  said.” 

“Yas,  we  wants  more  ter  sell  him,  an’  to  keep  your 
secret,  sir,  so  you  won’t  get  court-martialed.” 

The  eyes  of  Buffalo  Bill  flashed,  as  he  said: 

“You  infamous  scoundrels,  you  would  extort  gold 
from  me  as  hush-money,  but  I will  offer  you  no  terms 
but  these: 

“This  man  is  my  prisoner,”  and  with  the  words  the 
revolvers  leaped  fairly  from  their  holsters  and  seemed 
to  cover  each  of  the  three  men.  They  were  taken 


Buffalo  Bill’s  Bold  Game. 


*79 

wholly  aback  at  this  bold  stand;  but  they  knew  their 
man  too  well  to  parley,  and  one  said  quickly,  with  a 
sickly  smile : 

“You  has  your  way,  sir,  an’  we  caves.” 

“Yes,  we’ll  take  ther  thousand,  sir.” 

“Not  one  dollar  do  you  get.  Here,  Dead  Knife  Jim, 
is  your  horse;  mount  him  and  depart.” 

“I  say,  Bill,  you  is ” 

“Don’t  stop  to  talk,  man,  but  go,”  sternly  said  the 
scout. 

“You’re  right,  go  is,  my  strong  hold  now,  Pard  Bill, 
ef  ye’ll  only  untie  this  single  arm  o’  mine.” 

“Set  that  man’s  arm  free!”  sternly  ordered  the 

scout. 

The  man  upon  whom  his  eye  rested  obeyed  sullenly. 
“Now,  Bill,  I’m  off,  an’,  gents,  ef  I meets  you  ag’in, 
it  won’t  be  me  thet  is  catched  asleep.” 

With  this,  Dead  Knife  Jim  walked  off  a few  paces 
to  where  his  horse  was  tied,  picking  up  his  belt  of 
arms  as  he  did  so,  and  then  turning,  said : 

“Bill,  them  gerloots  will  tell  what  you  did  an’  git 
you  inter  trouble.  Better  let  me  bore  a hole  in  ’em 
an’  sav  nothin’  about  it.” 


Buffalo  Bill’s  Bold  Game. 


180 

“No,  sir,  they  can  do  nib  no  harm.” 

Dead  Knife  then  started  to  mount,  but  stopped  with 
his  foot  in  the  stirrup  and  said: 

“Pard  Bill,  you  know  I is  a outlaw?” 

“Yes,  and  a bad  one.” 

“Fact ! but  I keeps  ther  pot  boilin’  by  robbin’  folks.” 

“Well?”, 

“Don’t  yer  think  yer’d  better  let  me  take  what  dust' 
them  pilgrims  hes  about  thar  close?” 

In  spite  of  the  seriousness  of  the  situation,  Buffalo 
Bill  laughed.  Then  he  answered : 

“Jim,  you  are  a born  rascal,  and  will  die  one.  Be- 
gone !” 

“I’m  off,  Bill,  but  I thought  I’d  ask  yer.  Ta-ta, 
gents,”  and  with  a kiss  of  his  hand  to  those  who  had 
lost  their  prize  in  losing  him,  he  rode  away. 

“Now,  Buffalo  Bill,  won’t  you  come  to  terms  with 
us?”  boldly  said  one  of  the  men. 

“What  do  you  mean  by  terms?” 

“You’ve  set  a Red  Angel  free,  and  it  will  cause  you 
trouble,  as  you  know,  sir;  but  if  you’ll  give  us  one 
thousand  in  dust,  we’ll  say  nothing  about  it  all 
around.” 


Buffalo  Bill’s  Bold  Game. 


181 


“You  can  say  what  you  please ; but  I shall  make  my 
report  when  I go  to  the  fort,  and,  for  your  base  at- 
tempt to  hang  that  man,  I will  march  you  to  the  fort 
as  my  prisoners,  so  drop  your  weapons  quick  and 
mount  your  horses,  unless  you  wish  to  quarrel  with 
me.” 

The  three  men  had  no  desire  to  quarrel  with  the 
chief  of  scouts  of  the  fort,  for  they  knew  him  too  well, 
so  obeyed  his  orders,  and,  having  dismounted  and 
picked  up  their  arms,  he  drove  them  before  him  to  the 
fort,  where  he  made  his  report  of  just  what  had  oc- 
curred. 

“You  have  done  a bold  thing,  Cody,  but,  knowing 
as  I do  just  what  that  fellow  had  done  for  you,  I will 
make  no  report  of  it,  and,  to  drop  the  affair,  I will  re- 
lease those  three  men  with  a reprimand. 

“But,  having  returned  the  service  you  owe  that 
devilish  outlaw,  do  me  the  favor  to  shoot  him  at  sight 
the  next  time  you  see  him,”  and  with  this  Major  Ben- 
teen  dropped  the  matter,  certainly  to  the  relief  of  the 
scout,  who  knew  that  he  had  done  that  which  would 
cause  him  trouble  if  pressed  against  him  by  his  com- 
mandant 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


A MISCHIEVOUS  SCHEME. 

Kirk  Kendrick,  the  courier,  after  his  return  to  the 
fort,  without  the  shadow  of  suspicion  upon  him,  con- 
tinued to  play  his  cards  so  well  that  from  Major  Ben- 
teen  down  to  the  sutler  of  the  fort,  he  would  have  been 
trusted  with  any  secret  of  importance,  or  any  sum  of 
money. 

One  day,  soon  after  the  release  of  Dead  Knife  Jim 
at  the  hands  of  Buffalo  Bill,  a train  of  emigrants, 
bound  down  on  the  South  Platte,  encamped  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  fort  for  a night. 

The  emigrants  and  soldiers  mingled  freely  together, 
the  former  relating  their  experiences  to  the  latter,  and 
glad  to  find  out  from  those  who  knew  just  what  they 
would  have  to  face  upon  arriving  at  their  destination. 

Among  those  of  the  train  who  sought  the  sutler’s 
store  to  make  needed  purchases  was  an  old  man  who 
had  joined  the  train  only  a couple  of  days  before,  sta- 
ting that  he  "-as  a hunter,  had  wandered  farther  from 


A Mischievous  Scheme.  183 

his  horse  on  the  South  Platte  than  he  meant  to,  and  de- 
sired to  go  with  the  train  on  their  way.  All  willingly 
granted  the  permission  to  the  old-fashioned  hunter, 
and  he  attracted  no  further  particular  attention. 

Going  to  the  sutler’s,  he  asked  quietly  if  there  was 
a soldier  then  in  the  fort  by  the  li&me  of  Kendrick. 
Answered  in  the  affirmative,  he  asked  to  see  him,  and 
was  directed  to  the  quarters  of  the  courier  of  that 
, name. 

Called  out  by  his  comrades,  Kendrick  advanced, 
looked  fixedly  at  the  old  man,  who  said  quickly : 

“Why,  Kendrick,  my  boy,  you  haven’t  forgot  old 
Hunter  Billy,  hev  yer?” 

Kendrick  changed  color,  but  there  was  that  in  the 
man’s  face  that  warned  him  to  be  careful,  and  he  an- 
swered : 

“No,  indeed;  how  are  you,  Hunter  Billy?” 

“Prime  as  pelts  in  season,  boy;  but  come  ’long,  I 
wants  to  talk  with  yer  ’bout  old  times,  fer  I hasn’t  long 
to  stay,  as  I’m  with  ther  train  camped  yonder.” 

Kendrick  got  his  cap  and  accompanied  the  old  man 
to  a secluded  spot,  when  he  asked : 

“Now,  who  the  deuce  is  old  Hunter  Billy?” 


184 


A Mischievous  Scheme. 


“A  angel  from  Paradise,  pard,  or  that  is,  a Redl 
Angel,”  was  the  answer. 

Again  the  courier  changed  color,  while  he  said 
simply : 

“Oh,  you  are?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well,  what  do  you  want?” 

“I  come  from  the  chief.” 

“You  do?” 

“Yes,  Cap’n  Hyena  sent  me.  Ye  see,  he  was  going 
to  attack  ther  train,  but  concluded  it  was  too  poor  and 
he  made  it  do  some  good  by  my  j’inin’  it  to  come 
here.” 

“Did  Captain  Kit  send  me  any  word?” 

“Yes,  a heap.” 

“What  did  he  say?” 

“Thet  you  must  tell  him  ef  there  was  any  courier 
orders  to  run  on  soon.” 

“Yes,  I start  next  week,  Saturday,  on  a run.” 

“Any  big  biz  ?” 

“Yes,  I am  to  bring  back  something  of  importance.” 

“That’s  it,  so  you  are  to  meet  him  at  the  timber 
whar  he  tackled  the  stage  that  day.” 


A Mischievous  Scheme.  i»5 

“At  what  time,  going  out  or  coming  in?” 

“Coming  in.” 

“I’ll  be  there  before  dark  on  Tuesday.” 

“All  right,  I’ll  tell  him;  but  he  wants  you  to  come 
fixed.” 

“How  fixed?” 

“Ready  to  j’ine.” 

“Oh!” 

“That’s  it.” 

“I’ll  be  ready,  old  man.” 

“All  right,  I guesses  I’d  better  go  now,  fer  that 
hain’t  anything  ter  keep  me  here,  an’  I hates  forts 
an’  sojers.” 

“You  are  not  honest,  I guess,”  said  the  courier, 
with  a light  laugh. 

“That’s  just  it,  and  I hates  them  as  is. 

“But  goo’-by,  boy,  we’ll  see  each  other  ag’in — goo’- 
by.” 

With  this  the  old  man  departed  from  the  fort. 

It  was  just  dark,  and  the  camp-fires  were  lighted  in 
the  train  encampment.  But  around  none  of  them  was 
Hunter  Billy,  and  no  one  missed  him. 

When  the  train  pulled  out  on  its  way,  and  had  gone 


i86 


A Mischievous  Scheme. 


some  distance,  he  was  observed  not  to  be  along,  and 
it  was  believed  that  he  preferred  to  stop  a while  at 
the  fort,  where  he  had  said  that  he  had  friends  among 
the  soldiers. 

On  the  Tuesday  afternoon  when  the  courier  had 
made  his  appointment  to  meet  the  chief  of  the  Red 
Angels,  a horseman  rode  along  the  trail  leading  to 
the  rendezvous  in  the  timber. 

It  was  Kirk  Kendrick,  and  he  was  well  mounted  and 
armed.  His  horse  showed  no  signs  of  having  been 
hard  pressed,  as  was  usual  with  courier  horses,  but 
went  along  at  an  easy  gait,  his  rider  seemingly  lost  in 
deep  thought. 

“I  hope  he  will  not  be  there.  If  not  I shall  act  upon 
my  own  responsibility,  and  go  my  way  with  what  I 
have,  and  it  will  be  believed  at  the  fort  that  I was  mur- 
dered.” 

So  he  muttered  as  he  rode  along,  until  the  timber 
came  in  view,  and  then  he  gazed  earnestly  at  it,  as 
though  to  pierce  its  density. 

The  trail  led  by  it,  within  easy  pistol  range,  but  leav- 
ing the  beaten  track,  the  courier  rode  directly  into  the 
timber. 

1 


A Mischievous  Scheme.  187 

At  first  he  saw  no  one.  Then  he  discovered  in  the 
distance  a man  watching  him.  Recognizing  the  form 
of  the  Red  Angel  chief,  he  rode  toward  him. 

The  chief,  still  in  his  crimson  feather  mask,  was 
standing  by  the  side  of  a large  tree,  while  his  horse 
was  cropping  the  grass  near  him. 

"Well,  Kendrick,  you  are  on  time,  I am  glad  to  see," 
he  called  out,  as  the  courier  approached. 

"Oh,  yes,  I always  keep  my  appointments." 

"Well,  dismount,  and  we’ll  have  a talk,  for  there  is 
work  for  you  to  do." 

“What  is  it?” 

"Leave  your  horse  there,  and  I will  tell  you.” 

The  courier  obeyed,  and  the  two  sat  down  together 
on  a log. 

"Now,  Kendrick,  what  have  you  with  you  that  is 
valuable?”  quietly  asked  the  chief. 

"More  than  I expected,  for  outside  of  what  the 
paymaster  sent  me  after,  is  a package  of  money  turned 
Over  to  him  by  an  officer  for  safe-keeping.” 

"What  is  the  sum  the  paymaster  sent  yon  after?” 

"Sixty-five  hundred  dollars.” 


188  * A Mischievous  Scheme. 

“Ah,  and  the  other  money?” 

“Eight  thousand.” 

“Well,  we  can  afford  to  be  honest,  can  we  not?” 

“I  do  not  understand  you.” 

“I  intended  not  to  touch  the  paymaster’s  money,  as 
I wished  you  to  return  to  the  fort;  but  as  nothing  is 
known  of  this  last  package,  we  will  divide  that  be- 
tween us;  you  say  nothing  about  it,  and  go  on  to  the 
fort.” 

“Why  must  I go  there?” 

“I  need  you  there.” 

“Why?” 

“I  wish  you  to  get  possession  of,  in  some* way,  half 
a dozen  cavalry  saddles  asd  bridles,  and  troopers’  uni- 
forms.” 

“For  what?” 

“I  need  them,  and  you  must  get  them.” 

“It  will  be  hard  to  do.” 

“Not  if  you  play  your  cards  right.  I must  have 
them  in  three  days,  and  you  must  meet  me  at  Willow 
Ford  with  them  by  sunset  of  the  third  day.” 

“I’ll  try.” 


A Mischievous  Scheme.  - 189 

“You  must  do  it.” 

“Suppose  I cannot?” 

“You  must.” 

“Well,  I will  do  my  best,  and  I can  do  no  more.” 
“When  are  you  expected  to  start  on  another  trip?” 
“In  three  days.” 

“That  fits  well,  and  you  must  do  it,  for  I observed 
that  you  had  full  sway  at  the  fort,  doing  pretty  much 
as  you  pleased.” 

“You  observed  it?” 

“Yes.” 

“When  ?” 

“The  other  day.” 

“Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  were  at  the  fort  ?” 
“Yes.” 

The  courier  shook  his  head,  and  then  the  chief,  with 
a light  laugh,  said  : 

“My  disguise  was  good,  if  you  did  not  penetrate  it.” 
“I  did  not  see  you.” 

“You  did.” 

“I  do  not  remember  it.” 

“Do  you  remember  old  Hunter  Billy?” 

“Yes.” 


190  A Mischievous  Scheme. 

“Well,  1 was  Hunter  Billy.” 

“Impossible.” 

“It  is  a fact.” 

“Why,  that  man’s  face  was  not  made  up.” 

“It  was,  for  a fact.” 

“You  ought  to  have  gone  upon  the  stage;  you  would 
have  made  your  fortune.” 

“I  am  making  my  fortune  now  off  of  a stage,  when- 
ever I get  a chance.  I got  you  from  one,”  was  the 
significant  reply. 

“I  wish  now  that  I had  scanned  your  face  more 
closely,  that  I might  have  seen  where  I had  met  you 
before,  and  just  who  you  are.” 

“It  would  have  done  you  no  good,  for  you  saw  only 
the  face  of  an  old  man.” 

“But  you  are  not  an  old  man.” 

“How  do  you  know?” 

“Your  neck,  your  hands,  your  voice  do  not  show 
it.” 

“Well,  no  matter  who  I am ; but  do  your  duty  to- 
ward me,  and  you  shall  not  regret  it.  Now,  don’t  let 
me  detain  you,  for  it  is  time  you  were  going  on  your 
way.  Remember,  at  the  Willow  Ford,  the  third  day 


A Mischievous  Scheme.  191 

from  this  we  meet,  and  bring  half  a dozen  saddles, 
bridles,  and  uniforms  along  with  you.” 

“If  I can.” 

“If  you  don’t  I shall  send  a letter  to  Major  Benteeni 
about  you,”  was  the  remark*  in  a quiet  way,  but  it 
made  the  deserter  start  and  turn  pale. 

“Is  that  all  ?”  he  asked,  after  a slight  pause. 

“Yes;  except  that  I’ll  take  the  eight  thousand,  and 
keep  your  share  as  a hold  on  you.” 

He  took  the  money  package  from  the  satchel,  and 
Kirk  Kendrick  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  on,  mut- 
tering to  himself : 

“That  man  got  the  best  of  me,  for  had  he  let  me 
have  the  four  thousand  I should  have  gone  my  way, 
and  he  should  never  have  seen  me  again.  But  the 
sixty-five  hundred  I have  here  is  not  enough  to  tempt 
me.  No,  I must  do  as  he  says ; desert  and  go  to  him, 
for  I cannot  help  it.” 


CHAPTER  XV. 


CAPTAIN  KIT’S  DARING  PLAN. 

ft  was  an  exciting  time  along  the  border,  for  Wolf 
Fang,  having  gotten  his  warriors  in  trim  again,  after 
the  scourge  that  had  fallen  upon  them,  was  beginning 
to  threaten  the  settlements  and  ranches  once  more  with 
small  bands,  while  it  was  rumored  that  he  intended  to 
make  a sweeping  raid  at  the  head  of  his  entire  force  of 
braves. 

The  Red  Angels,  too,  had  been  quite  troublesome, 
and  consequently  settlers  in  small  communities,  iso- 
lated rancheros,  and  the  soldiers  were  on  the  qui  vive 
for  anything  that  might  transpire  of  a perilous  nature. 

On  the  evening  appointed  for  the  meeting  with  the 
deserter  by  Captain  Kit,  Buffalo  Bill,  with  Night 
Hawk  and  several  officers,  were  riding  over  to  Monk- 
ton  Ranch,  when  a horseman,  with  two  led  packhorses, 
was  seen  making  his  way  toward  a willow-fringed 
stream  that  lay  upon  the  trail  before  them. 

It  was  Kirk  Kendrick,  the  deserter.  He  was 


* Captain  Kit’s  Daring  Plan.  193 

mounted  upon  his  best  horse,  and  the  two  he  was  lead- 
ing, and  which  carried  packs  securely  done  up  in  can- 
vas, were  his  other  fast  flyers  that  had  carried  hint 
so  often  swiftly  over  the  dangerous  trails  a courier 
has  to  ride. 

Arriving  at  the  stream,  he  found  a ford  there,  but 
turned  one  side  into  the  thicket  without  crossing.  It 
was  not  yet  the  sunset  hour,  and  hitching  his  horses, 
he  began  to  pace  to  and  fro,  lost  in  deep  reverie. 

Suddenly  the  splashing  of  water  startled  him,  and  he 
ran  to  a spot  that  gave  him  a view  of  the  ford.  There 
were  a dozen  horsemen  crossing  the  stream.  - 

At  their  head  rode  Captain  Hyena,  the  outlaw  chief, 
and  those  who  followed  him  were  his  men,  Dead  Knife 
Jim  riding  second  in  the  line. 

As  they  reached  the  side  on  which  Kirk  Kendrick 
stood,  he  stepped  forward  and  greeted  them,  and  the 
act  nearly  cost  him  his  life,  for  a dozen  revolvers  cov- 
ered him  in  an  instant,  while  Dead  Knife  Jim  shouted  : 

“Hands  up,  soldier  pard !” 

Realizing  his  mistake  and  his  danger,  as  he  was 
clad  in  uniform,  the  courier  obeyed  the  stern  order 


194  Captain  Kit’s  Daring  Plan. 

with  an  alacrity  that  saved  his  life,  while  Captain  Kit 
called  out : 

^ % 

“Hold,  men!  this  man  is  my  friend.” 

It  was  evident  that  the  outlaws  were  not  in  all  the 
secrets  of  their  chief;  but  they  obeyed  his  orders,  and' 
their  captain  continued : 

“Kendrick,  you  were  a fool  to  show  yourself  as  you 
did,  and  it  might  have  cost  you  your  life.” 

“It  very  nearly  did,  and  I saw  my  mistake  instantly; 
but  I supposed  your  men  knew  you  were  coming  here 
to  meet  me.” 

“No,  sir,  they  know  only  so  much  of  my  affairs  as 
it  is  necessary  for  them  to  know.  I plot,  plan,  and! 
command,  and  it  is  for  them  to  execute  and  obey,  if 
they  wish  to  share  the  result.  Now  you  are  prompt 
again,  I see.” 

“Yes,  I have  ridden  courier  long  enough  to  learn  to 
be  always  on  time.” 

“And  the  things  I wanted?” 

“Are  with  the  horses  back  in  the  thicket.” 

“And  you  have  come  to  stay?” 

“How  can  I do  otherwise?” 

“Did  you  have  any  trouble  in  getting  away?” 


Captain  Kit’s  Daring  Plan.  195 

“Yes,  for  saddles,  bridles,  and  horses  cannot  be 
easily  taken  out  of  a fort.  But  I lowered  the  saddles 
one  night  over  the  stockade  and  hid  them  in  the  timber 
a mile  away.  The  next  night  I took  the  bridles,  and 
this  morning  led  my  three  horses  out  to  pasture,  and 
here  I am.” 

“You  have  done  well,”  and,  turning  to  the  men,  the 
chief  continued : 

“Men,  this  gentleman  is  my  friend,  and  a new  mem- 
ber of  the  Red  Angel  band.  In  truth,  I shall  make  him 
my  lieutenant,  though  it  means  no  reflection  on  you, 
Dead  Knife  Jim,  who  have  been  serving  in  that  capa- 
city of  late,  and  I know  you  do  not  like  the  place.” 

Kirk  Kendrick  bowed  at  the  introduction,  while  the 
outlaws  nodded  in  response,  for  all  of  them  had  seen 
him,  and  most  of  them  had  taken  flying  shots  at  him 
as  he  sped  along  riding  express. 

“Pard,  you  is  welcome  to  ther  place,  so  far  as  I 
is  consarned,  for  I does  not  hanker  at  bein’  no  loot- 
nent  nor  cap’n  so  long  as  the  prize-money  goes  round 
squar'  accordin’  to  my  desarts,”  said  Dead  Knife  Jim, 
by  way  of  making  the  new  recruit  feel  easy  in  his  po- 
sition as  an  outlaw  officer. 


196  Captain  Kit’s  Daring  Plan. 

“Well,  men,  we  go  into  camp  here  for  a while,  and 
then  there  is  work  to  be  done  to-night.  Now,  Ken- 
drick, tell  me  what  the  news  is  at  the  fort.” 

“All  quiet,  though  excited  about  your  recent  acts, 
and  the  fear  of  Wolf  Fang’s  pouncing  down  upon  the 
settlements  and  ranches.” 

“And  they’ll  have  that  fear  of  me  and  the  Indians  as 
long  as  the  Government  keeps  a handful  of  men  in  a 
post  where  there  should  be  a thousand  for  duty.  But 
I am  not  complaining,  I assure  you.  Now  tell  me  if 
you  have  not  forgotten  an  important  piece  of  your 
tidings.” 

“No.” 

“Think.” 

“I  recall  nothing  that  would  interest  you.” 

“Ah ! is  there  not  some  sort  of  a social  gathering  to- 
night at  Monkton  Ranch  ?” 

“Yes.” 

“Is  Buffalo  Bill  to  be  there?” 

“He  was  to  leave  for  the  ranch  to-day.” 

“With  an  escort  ?” 

“No.  On  account  of  the  Indians  threatening,  ftnhl 


Captain  Kit’s  Daring  Plan.  197 

a couple  of  officers,  the  chaplain,  and  Night  Hawk 
Powell,  were  to  go  with  him.” 

“Good!  No  one  knows  that  you  have  deserted?” 

“No,  and  I wish  that  I could  have  left  while  on  a 
ride  on  the  trail,  when  it  would  have  been  thought 
that  you  or  the  Indians  had  captured  or  killed  me.” 

“It  suited,  me  best  to  have  you  desert  as  you  did. 
They  will  know  it  soon?” 

“Yes,  for  I left  a note  with  my  chum  telling  him  I 
was  forced  to  leave  the  service,  and  he  will  get  that 
when  he  comes  in  to-night  from  cattle-guarding.” 

“This  works  just  as  I could  wish.  Now  it  is  about 
ten  miles  from  here  to  Monkton  Ranch.” 

“I  was  never  there.” 

“That  is  about  the  distance,  and  I wish  you  to  go 
there  to-night.” 

“Me?” 

“Yes ; there  is  work  for  you  to  do  there.” 

“What  work?” 

“You  must  ride  up  to  the  ranch  and  say  to  Buffalo 
Bill  that  you  have  been  sent  by  the  major  to  ask  him 
to  come  with  all  speed  to  the  fort.  Before  you  go 


198  Captain  Kit’s  Daring  Plan. 

into  the  ranch,  tie  this  string  around  the  leg  of  your 
horse,  and  before  you  have  ridden  far  with  Buffalo  Bill 
on  his  return,  the  animal  will  be  lame,  and  you  must 
ask  to  go  back  and  get  a fresh  pony  from  the  major.” 

“What  am  I to  do  all  this  for?” 

“When  you  get  near  the  ranch,  you  will  meet  half  a 
dozen  horsemen  awaiting  you.  They  will  be  my  men ; 
but  they  will  be  in  the  full  uniform  of  soldiers,  you  un- 
derstand. 

“Taking  the  string  off  the  leg  of  your  horse,  it  will 
no  longer  lame  him,  and  you  can  go  back  to  the  ranch 
with  these  men  and  say  to  Miss  Joslyn  that  Buffalo  Bill 
met  an  officer  and  party  of  soldiers  coming  from  the 
fort,  and  urged  her  to  come  right  on  with  them,  as 
there  was  news  of  danger  from  the  up-country.” 

“Do  you  mean  harm  against  that  girl?”  cried  Ken- 
drick, now  realizing  all  that  the  chief  was  plotting  for^ 

“No,  I only  mean  to  get  a big  ransom  for  her,  which 
I know  will  be  paid.” 

“Buffalo  Bill  is  not  a rich  man.” 

“He  owns  a claim  in  Colorado  which  he  does  not 
know  the  value  of,  and  I will  trade  him  back  his  ward 
for  it,  you  see.’L. 


r 


Captain  Kit’s  Daring  Plan.  199 

“And  this  is  what  you  are  after  ?” 

“Exactly.” 

“Well,  I suppose,  having  put  my  head  in  the  lion’s 
mouth,  I dare  not  attempt  to  draw  it  out,  so  I shall 
have  to  do  as  you  say.  Now,  what  is  the  next  act?” 

“When  you  get  away  from  the  ranch  with  the  girl, 
Dead  Knife  Jim  will  guide  you  to  where  I am.” 

“He  is  that  one-armed  man  over  there?” 

“Yes.” 

“All  right.” 

“See  that  you  understand  your  instructions  now.” 

“I  do.” 

“Then  we  will  get  out  the  uniforms,  and  have  all  in 
readiness  for  the  work  to  be  done,”  and  the  two  men 
walked  over  and  joined  the  group,  while  Dead  Knife 
Jim  muttered : 

“Thar’s  suthin’  going  wrong  toward  Buffalo  Bill 
which  I doesn’t  ketch  onto.  Ef  I did,  I’d  warn  him' 
ef  it  cost  me  a fight  fer  it.” 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


THE  FLIGHT  BY  NIGHT. 

Over  the  night-shadowed  prairies  a number  of  ri- 
ders were  dashing  swiftly  along.  Their  course  lay  to 
the  southwest,  in  the  direction  of  the  Colorado  line, 
and  they  were  evidently  pushing  on  from  some  motive 
that  required  great  haste. 

There  were  nine  in  the  party,  one  riding  some  dis- 
tance in  advance.  Then  two  rode  side  by  side,  and 
behind  them  came  six  men,  three  abreast.  The  latter 
were  dressed  in  uniform,  as  the  starlight  showed;  and 
one  of  the  two  who  rode  side  by  side  wore  a soldier’s 
costume. 

The  other  was  a woman,  and  sat  on  her  horse  with 
the  same  ease  that  did  her  male  companions. 

He  who  led  the  party  was  clad  in  buckskin,  wore  a 
broad  sombrero,  and  even  in  the  darkness  it  could  be 
seen  that  he  had  but  one  arm,  the  right  being  missing. 

The  time  was  the  night  following  the  meeting  of 
Captain  Kit  and  the  deserter  courier  at  the  Willowi 


The  Flight  by  Night.  201 

Ford.  The  men  in  uniform  were  outlaws  in  disguise, 
and  the  plot  of  the  Hyena  captain  had  so  far  gone 
well  for  him  and  against  Janette  Joslyn. 

“Why  does  that  guide  go  in  this  direction  ?”  asked 
Janette,  after  miles  had  been  gone  over. 

“To  avoid  meeting  any  strolling  bands  of  redskins, 
miss,”  was  the  answer  of  Kirk  Kendrick,  the  one  who 
rode  by  her  side. 

“This  wide  divergence  from  the  trail  will  keep  us 
until  to-morrow  afternoon  to  reach  the  fort,”  con- 
tinued Janette. 

“The  guide  knows  best,  miss,  and  Buffalo  Bill  told 
him  to  see  that  no  harm  befell  you  if  he  went  a hun- 
dred miles  round  to  secure  safety.” 

“Very  well,  I must  say  no  more,  then,  only  it  seems 
he  is  going  wholly  wrong.” 

After  this  Janette  had  little  to  say,  and  the  party 
dashed  on  at  the  same  rapid  speed  until  the  horses 
began  to  yield  to  fatigue.  Then  the  guide  drew  rein 
in  a clump  of  timber  and  said : 

“Must  change,  horses  here,  miss.” 

“Change  horses  here?”  asked  Janette,  in  surprise. 

“Yes,  miss;  them’s  the  cap’n’s  orders.” 


202 


The  Flight  by  Night. 


“What  captain?  Who  do  you  mean?  Where  are 
you  going?  What  does  this  relay  of  horses  waiting 
for  us  here  mean?” 

Janette  asked  the  questions  with  the  rapidity  that 
only  a woman  under  excitement  can.  Before  the  guide 
could  reply,  Kirk  Kendrick  said : 

“It  is  all  right,  miss ; for  these  horses  were  left  here 
for  another  purpose,  and  as  the  guide  said  he  might 
have  to  come  round  this  way  to  avoid  the  Indians, 
Buffalo  Bill  told  him  to  make  use  of  these  animals. 
We  will  halt  for  half  an  hour’s  rest.” 

There  was  only  one  man  found  with  the  relay  of 
horses  in  the  timber,  and  he  took  charge  of  the  tiredi 
stock  and  rode  off  in  a different  direction  from'  that 
taken  by  the  courier  and  his  party. 

After  a short  rest  Janette  mounted  her  fresh  horse, 
and  they  started  once  more  at  a rapid  gallop,  keeping 
the  animals  well  up  to  their  speed  and  throwing  the 
miles  rapidly  behind  them. 

After  several  hours  more  of  rapid  riding,  another 
halt  was  made,  and  a second  time  a relay  of  horses 
was  found.  This  time  Janette’s  suspicions  were  fully 
awakened,  and  she  said  in  an  angry  voice : 


The  Flight  by  Night.  203 

“You  must  explain  this  mystery,  for  we  have  been 
going  at  a run  from  the  fort  all  this  time,  and  I feel 
that  something  is  wrong.” 

Again  the  cunning  of  the  courier  came  to  his  aid, 
and  he  said : 

“You  see,  Buffalo  Bill  met  Lieutenant  Ames  and  a 
party  of  soldiers  after  he  left  the  ranch,  and  he  said 
that  as  Wolf  Fang  was  marching  with  such  a band  of 
warriors  down  upon  the  fort,  all  the  officers’  wives  and 
children  had  been  sent  hastily  away  toward  the  old 
fort,  and  two  relays  of  horses  had  been  left  for  you  to 
follow  at  all  speed,  and  it  is  there  that  we  are  taking 
you;  but  Buffalo  Bill  said  you’d  be  certain  to  want  to 
remain  at  the  fort  or  the  ranch,  and  share  this  danger, 
unless  you  were  fooled  into  going  where  we  are  taking 
you.” 

This  story  certainly  seemed  plausible,  and  with  no 
real  reason  for  doubting  the  soldiers,  as  she  supposed 
them  to  be,  Janette  said  frankly: 

“I  thank  you,  my  man,  for  telling  me  the  truth,  but 
I do  prefer  to  remain  at  the  fort  and  share  the  danger, 
so  you  will  oblige  me  by  returning  there  at  once.” 

“I  am  very  sorry,  but  I dare  not  disobey  orders.” 


V . 


204  The  Flight  by  Night. 

“I  will  be  responsible.” 

“I  am  sorry,  but  I must  obey  my  orders.” 

Janette  gave  vent  to  an  impatient  exclamation,  and1 
then  asked : 

“How  far  is  it  from  here  that  we  have  to  go  ?” 

“About  three  hours’  rapid  ride.” 

_ “Then  start  at  once.” 

“You  will  need  rest,  for  we  have  now  been  six  hours 
in  the  saddle,  and  ridden  full  speed  a long  way.” 

“I  am  not  fatigued,  and  this  relay  of  horses  are 
fresh,  so  push  on.” 

“But  it  is  about  dawn,  and  you  might  get  an  hour’s 
rest  waiting  for  breakfast.” 

“I  am  not  hungry,  and  in  three  hours  we  can  get 
breakfast  where  we  are  going.  I wish  to  ride  on  at 
once.” 

This  settled  it,  and  the  tired  outlaws  were  once  more 
compelled  to  mount  and  follow  the  seemingly  untiring 
girl. 

As  dawn  began  to  break,  Janette  looked  narrowly 
into  the  faces  of  her  escort.  First  she  glanced  at  the 
guide  ahead,  and  noticed  that  he  had  but  one  arm,  and 
was  a rougher  specimen  of  humanity  than  she  had 


The  Flight  by  Ni  Jht.  205 

ever  seen  about  the  fort.  Next  she  looked  back  at 
the  “soldiers.” 

They  spurred  up  a little  to  appear  soldierly,  but  were 
a hard-looking  set,  with  long  hair,  bearded  and  un- 
kempt faces. 

At  once  her  suspicions  returned  to  her,  and  she 
turned  her  eyes  full  upon  the  man  by  her  side.  What 
she  saw  seemed  to  fascinate  her,  and  she  asked,  after 
a long  survey  of  his  features,  which  amounted  to  a 
stare : 

“What  is  your  name  ?” 

“Kendrick,  .ma’am.” 

“Ah,  yes,  so  I heard  you  called. 

“Have  you  been  a soldier  long?” 

“For  years,”  said  the  man,  not  liking  this  scrutiny. 

* IS 

“I  knew  a man  by  your  name  once — Kirk  Kendrick 
— and  he  was  confidential  clerk  to  my  father,  Richard 
Joslyn,  and  betrayed  his  trust.  I was  a little  girl  then, 
but  I never  forget  a face,  and  you  are  Kirk  Ken- 
drick!” 

“No,  no,  Miss  Joslyn,  I beg  you  not  to ” 

“Silence,  sir!  for  I know  you,  and  if  you  betrayed 


206  The  Flight  by  Night. 

one  master  you  will  another,  and  are  dealing  wrong 
with  me  now.” 

Without  giving  a sign  of  her  intention,  with  the  ut- 
terance of  the  last  words  she  suddenly  wheeled  her 
horse  and  darted  away  like  the  wind,  urging  the  ani- 
mal with  her  riding-whip  in  one  hand,  while  with  the 
other  she  had  drawn  a revolver  from  her  belt,  for  she 
had  put  it  on  before  leaving  the  ranch. 

So  sudden  had  been  her  move  that  she  had  gained  a 
dozen  lengths  the  start  before  the  astonished  deserter 
and  his  comrades  could  realize  that  she  had  taken 
flight.  Then  Kirk  Kendrick  cried: 

“After  her,  men !” 

Leading  the  way,  he  started  in  pursuit,  and  an  ex- 
citing race  began. 

But  Janette  had  not  gone  far  before  she  discovered 
that  she  was  mounted,  whether  by  accident  or  design 
she  knew  not,  upon  the  slowest  horse  of  the  lot,  and  she 
turned  about,  determined  to  keep  her  pursuers  at  bay 
with  her  revolvers,  for  she  now  sat  with  one  in  each 
hand  as  the  outlaws  dashed  up. 

“Put  up  diem  weepins,  durn  yer,  or  I uses  mine!” 


The  Flight  by  Night.  207 

The  words  were  uttered  by  Dead  Knife  Jim,  and  he 
drew  his  own  revolver  as  he  spoke. 

“Back,  all  of  you!  for  I will  kill  the  first  man  that) 
lays  a hand  on  me,”  cried  Janette,  and  her  look  showed 
that  she  meant  every  word  she  uttered. 

The  outlaws  halted,  Kirk  Kendrick  and  Dead  Knife 
Jim  along-  with  the  others,  and  a circle  was  formed 
around  her,  presenting  a strange  sight,  the  daring  girl 
at  bay  in  the  midst  of  her  male  foes. 

There  was  no  man  present  who  seemed  to  care  to 
risk  the  proving  of  her  words,  and  they  all  held  aloof. 
Thus  a moment  of  painful  silence  passed,  and  it  was 
broken  by  Janette  with : 

“Now  I know  you  are  up  to  some  deviltry  against 
me,  and  I shall  fight  for  my  rights.  Go  your  way  to- 
gether, and  I will  go  my  way  alone.  You  are  no  more 
soldiers  than  1 am,  though  that  man  may  be  now,  but 
he  once  was  my  father’s  clerk  and  robbed  him,  while 
you  are,  I believe,  the  outlaw  whom  they  call  Dead 
Knife  Jim,”  and  she  looked  squarely  in  the  face  of  the 
latter  personage,  who  remarked : 

“You  hes  hit  ther  bull’s-eye  dead-center  on  me,; 


missy,  fer  I are  thet  individual.” 


The  Flight  by  Night. 


208 

“And  you  are  all  outlaws?” 

“Yes,  miss.” 

“Of  the  Red  Angel  band  ?” 

“Sar’tin.” 

“And  have  played  this  bold  game  of  pretended  sol- 
diers to  get  possession  of  me?”  asked  Janette,  without 
a quiver  in  her  voice. 

“You’ve  got  us  down  fine,  miss,”  answered  Dead 
Knife  Jim,  who  became  spokesman  for  the  party. 

“And  is  that  man  the  instigator,  to  seek  revenge  on 
me,  on  account  of  my  father,  who  dismissed  him  from 
his  service?”  and  she  pointed  to  Kirk  Kendrick,  whose 
face  flushed  and  then  paled  at  her  words. 

“No,  miss;  you  is  off  ther  trail  thar,  fer  he  are  only 
actin’  fer  ther  chief,  an’  as  I understand  it,  you  has 
been  kidnaped  ter  be  held  fer  a big  pile  o’  dust.  Don’t 
you  git  scart,  fer  thet  are  all,  an^jny  idee  is  ther  sooner 
ther  dust  is  put  up,  ther  sooner  you  gits  free.” 

Janette  gave  a sigh  of  relief,  and  then  asked: 

“What  price  do  you  demand  ?” 

“It  are  fer  ther  chief  to  decide,  miss.” 

“I  have  some  money,  and  can  send  one  of  your  m**" 
(with  an  order,  which ” 


The  Flight  by  Night.  209 

“No,  miss;  we  must  leave  it  fer  ther  chief  ter  de- 
cide.” 

“Captain  Hyena?” 

“We  calls  him  Cap’n  Kit,  miss.” 

“The  other  name  suits  him  best;  but  where  is  he?” 

“We’ll  take  yer  ter  whar  he  is,  or  will  be  soon.” 

“I  suppose  I must  submit.” 

“Yes,  miss,  fer  we  kin  jist  keep  around  yer  an’  not 
let  yer  git  away.” 

“Very  well,  lead  on  as  before,  and  I will  follow;  but 
you,  sir,  ride  back  with  your  brother  cutthroats,”  and 
she  looked  with  scorn  upon  Kirk  Kendrick,  who  slowly 
fell  back  to  a position  behind  her,  while  Dead  Knife 
Jim  led  the  way,  as  before,  and  Janette  followed  after 
him,  as  he  went  off  on  the  same  sweeping  gallop  they 
had  kept  up  through  the  night. 

As  though  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  face  the 
worst,  Janette  did  not  speak  any  more  on  the  long  ride. 

After  an  hour’s  gallop  the  prairie  became  broken, 
and  farther  on  hill-land  was  before  them,  with  higher 
hills,  heavily  wooded,  and  presenting  the  appearance  of 
a rough  country  in  the  distance. 


210 


The  Flight  by  Night. 


The  sun  was  well  up  in  the  skies  when  the  party  at 
'last  entered  a canon,  that,  having  an  upward  slope, 
brought  them  into  the  heart  of  the  hills. 

Janette  looked  about  her  with  interest,  as  Dead 
Knife  Jim  halted  before  a rude,  but  stout  cabin,  built 
tinder  the  brow  of  an  overhanging  hill,  and  at  the  ter- 
mination of  a canon  whose  high  sides  were  unscalable. 

“Here,  miss,  is  the  place  the  chief  told  us  to  bring 
yer,  an’  you’ll  find  ther  cabin  comfortable,  though  it 
hain’t  ther  major’s  ranch,  as  you  can  see.” 

“Who  dwells  here?” 

“Nobody  lives  here  now,  miss ; but  it  us’t  ter  be  ther 
cap’n’s  home,  I b’lieves,  an’  its  furnitur’  are  hid  away 
in  ther  hills,  but  we’ll  soon  fetch  that  fer  yer.” 

“And  you  and  your  men  will  remain  here,  too?” 

“We  has  orders  ter  camp  here,  miss,  across  ther 
canon,  an’  thar  is  teepees  fer  us  hid  up  in  ther  timber, 
fer  we  hes  been  here  afore,  and  thet  cabing  are  wliar 
ther  chief  put  up.” 

Janette  said  no  more,  but  dropped  down  upon  a 
board  seat  in  front  of  the  cabin. 

i.  The  place  was  desolate  in  the  extreme,  though  sur- 


The  Flight  by  Night.  2ii 

rounded  by  a few  stunted  trees;  but  the  view  of  the 
canon,  off  over  the  country  for  miles,  was  a grand  one. 

Looking  about  her,  as  the  men  departed,  all  but  two 
who  remained  as  a guard,  she  sighed  heavily,  for  she 
could  see  no  manner  of  escape  out  of  that  dismal  spot. 

The  high,  precipitous  sides  of  the  canon  behind  her, 
with  the  outlaws  camping  across  its  width  in  front, 
seemed  to  present  an  impassable  barrier  to  escape,  for 
with  that  thought  her  mind  was  already  busy. 

Soon  the  men  returned  bearing  a cot,  table,  a couple 
of  chairs,  all  of  rude  workmanship,  and  a bundle  of 
other  things  that  Dead  Knife  Jim  said  “would  make 
things  hum  with  comfort  in  the  cabing.” 

They  also  brought  their  teepees,  which  were  pitched 
some  fifty  paces  below  the  cabin,  entirely  blocking  up 
the  canon. 

The  horses  were  led  into  the  valley  below  and  staked 
out,  under  one  man  as  guard,  and  one  of  the  outlaws 
having  built  a fire  began  to  broil  some  game  and  make 
coffee  in  a way  that  tempted  the  tired  and  hungry  girl 
to  eat  with  evident  relish. 

Then  she  set  to  work  and  arranged  the  cabin  as  well 


212  The  Flight  by  Night. 

as  she  could,  and  afterward  threw  herself  down  t<8 
rest,  and  sunk  into  a deep  sleep,  from  which  she  was 
awakened  by  the  opening  of  the  door. 

With  a startled  cry  she  sprang  to  her  feet,  for  be* 
fore  her  was  Captain  Kit,  the  Red  Angel  chief. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

BRICK  THE  BRAVO'S  STORY. 

For  an  instant,  upon  awakening  from  her  sound  and 
dreamless  sleep  after  her  long  ride  and  loss  of  rest, 
Janette  was  unnerved  at  the  sight  of  the  man  before 
her. 

She  had  seen  him  once,  when  he  attempted  to  make 
her  father  and  herself  prisoners,  the  night  he  had  at- 
tacked their  train,  and  again  when  he  had  tried  to  cap- 
ture her  when  she  was  with  Buffalo  Bill  one  day,  and 
would  have  done  so  but  for  the  act  of  the  self-sacrifi- 
cing scout,  who  had  forced  her  to  fly  on  his  horse  while 
he  stood  at  bay  among  the  bandits.  Once  more  she  had 
seen  him,  when  he  was  in  chase  of  Buffalo  Bill,  and 
had  been  checked  by  her  and  the  black  cowboys.  Of 
course  there  was  no  mistaking  that  tall  form  now,  and 
the  face,  shielded  from  sight  of  all  by  the  strange  mask 
of  red  wings. 

With  form  erect  and  arms  folded,  he  stood  before 
her,  while  he  said  in  a voice  of  rare  gentleness : 

“Pardon  me,  lady,  but  I knocked  twice,  and  receiv- 


214  Brick  the  Bravo’s  Story. 

ing  no  answer,  entered,  fearing  you  had  done  yourself 
some  harm,  as  you  had  not  been  seen  by  my  men  for 
some  hours.” 

“Hours!  have  I been  asleep  for  hours?”  she  asked, 
hardly  yet  in  full  command  over  herself. 

“It  is  growing  late  in  the  afternoon,  lady.” 

With  a haughty  toss  of  her  head,  Janette  said,  while 
her  lips  curled  with  scorn : 

“You  are  Captain  Hyena,  the  Overland  Bandit,  I 
believe  ?” 

“So  men  call  me,  lady,”  he  answered,  in  the  same 
gentle  tones,  and  with  no  show  of  anger. 

“And  you  are  the  murderer  of  my  father !”  she  said, 
almost  savagely. 

“No,  lady,  your  father  died  from  a wound  received 
in  defending  his  property  against  my  band.” 

“You  were  there,  sir,  for  I saw  you.” 

“Oh,  yes,  I do  not  deny  that.” 

.“Then  I look  upon  you  as  his  murderer.” 

“As  you  please,  lady.” 

His  coolness  and  gentleness  of  manner  fretted  her, 
and  she  said,  in  the  same  angry  manner : 


215 


Brick  the  Bravo's  Story. 

“And  I am  the  prisoner  of  such  a man  ?” 

“So  it  seems,  lady.” 

“And  you  have  taken  me  for  the  gold  my  ransom 
will  bring  you?” 

“Is  that  your  opinion,  lady?” 

“In  Heaven’s  name,  what  other  motive  can  have 
been  yours  ?”  she  cried  anxiously. 

“Compose  yourself,  make  yourself  at  home  here, 
where  my  negro  servant  will  bring  you  food,  and  to- 
morrow, when  you  have  well  rested,  we  will  have  a 
talk  together.” 

“No,  what  you  do  I wish  done  at  once.  I have 
money,  and  more  will  be  given  if  you  demand  it,  so 
name  my  ransom  and  send  a messenger  to  make  ar- 
rangements with  my  guardian.” 

The  man  stood  in  silence  for  a moment,  and  then 
he  said : 

“Lady,  we  will  have  a talk  to-morrow,  not  before, 
for  there  is  work  for  me  to  do  now,  and  if  things  go 
as  I expect  I will  have  some  one  a prisoner  here  of 
whom  you  little  dream.” 

“If  you  refer  to  Buffalo  Bill,  you  will  find  him  too 


2i6  Brick  the  Bravo’s  Story. 

well  able  to  take  care  of  himself  to  become  your  pris- 
oner.” 

The  chief  turned  and  went  to  the  door.  There  he 
paused,  and  before  he  went  out  said  simply : 

“To-morrow,  lady,  I will  see  you.” 

With  this  he  disappeared,  and  Janette  was  left  alone. 

The  cabin  was  hateful  to  her,  so  she  walked  outside. 
The  canon  was  becoming  darkened  with  the  shadows 
of  approaching  night,  though  the  sunlight  yet  gleamed 
like  gold  on  the  hill-tops,  and  lighted  up  the  country 
beyond,  which  was  spread  out  before  her  like  a grand 
painting. 

Near  the  cabin  another  teepee  had  been  set  up,  and 
before  it  she  saw  the  black  servant  of  the  chief  cook- 
ing supper. 

Brick  was  a skilful  cook,  and  went  about  his  work! 
with  the  air  of  one  who  knew  he  had  to  tempt  a fain 
lady  with  his  supper. 

There  was  a variety  of  dishes  he  was  preparing, 
boiled  birds,  a squirrel,  some  juicy  venison  steaks,  and 
baked  potatoes,  which  had  evidently  been  taken  from 
s,me  emigrant’s  wagon. 


Brick  the  Bravo’s  Story.  217 

Then  there  was  coffee  that  had  a delicious  flavor, 
biscuit,  butter,  taken  from  a tub  that  looked  as  though 
it  had,  like  the  potatoes,  not  reached  its  proper  desti- 
nation, and  silver  service  to  eat  on,  also  telling  of  rob- 
bery on  the  prairies. 

Having  extended  her  walk  into  the  little  grove  that 
shaded  the  end  of  the  canon,  Janette  regained  her  com- 
posure, and,  determined  to  take  matters  coolly  andi 
keep  up  her  strength. 

All  being  in  readiness  the  table  was  brought  out,  a 
cloth  spread  upon  it,  and  a plate  laid  for  one.  This 
was  a relief  to  the  girl,  for  she  had  feared  she  would 
have  to  eat  with  the  chief  as  her  vis-a-vis. 

“Supper  ready,  missy.  What  you  hab? — jist  say 
de  word,  an’  I help  you  to  eberyt’ing,”  said  Brick. 

Janette  allowed  him  to  help  her  bountifully,  for,  a 
prairie  girl,  in  spite  of  her  being  a captive,  she  had  a 
frontier  appetite. 

“Glad  missy  eat  somet’ing;  it  do  her  good,”  said 
Brick,  delighted  at  her  unmistakable  praise  of  his 
cooking. 

“You  are  a good  cook,”  she  said,  as  she  finished  her 


snipper. 


2l8 


Brick  the  Bravo’s  Story. 


“Yes,  missy,  I us’t  to  cook  on  a Massassip’  steam- 
boat in  de  good  ole  times.” 

“Were  you  a slave  then?” 

“Yes,  missy.” 

“Then  you  will  sympathize  with  me  in  my  loss  of 
freedom.” 

“Missy,  it  am  just  like  dis:  I did  sympathize  wid 
myself,  but  I c’u’dn’t  he’p  myself,  an’  I sympathize  wid 
you  an’  I can’t  help  you — see,  missy  ?” 

“No,  I do  not  see,  for  you  could  help  me  if  you 
wished.” 

“No,  missy,  I do  nothin’  my  massa  don’t  tell  me.” 

“Not  if  I paid  you  in  gold  what  would  have  bought 
you  from  your  master  in  slavery  days  ?'” 

“No,  missy.” 

“You  are  foolish.” 

“No,  missy;  if  you  tells  me  one  de  men  ’suits  you,  I 
kill  him  for  you ; but  I do  nothing  my  massa  don’t  say 
I must  do.” 

“You  love  your  master,  then  ?” 

“Yas,  missy,  he  am  all  I keer  for.” 

“How  strange,”  musingly  said  Janette 


Brick  the  Bravo’s  Story.  219 

“No,  missy;  for  he  do  much  for  me.” 

“In  making  you  an  outlaw  and  putting  your  neck 
in  the  same  noose  with  his  own  ?” 

“If  he  hang,  I kin  hang,  too,  missy;  but  he  done 
sabe  my  life  one  time  and  I neber  forgit  him,  no, 
neber.” 

“He  saved  your  life?” 

“Yes,  missy.” 

“How  ?” 

“Two  year  ago,  when  I were  in  de  mines,  workin’ 
for  a leetle  gold.  De  miners  didn’t  like  me  ’cause  I 
was  a nigger,  an’  dey  come  to  my  cabing  one  night 
to  make  me  gib  ’em  gold.  I tole  ’em  I didn’t  hab 
but  hundred  dollars,  an’  I gib  ’em  dat,  for  dere  was 
seben  of  ’em,  missy;  but  dey  swored  dat  I hab  plenty 
hided  away,  and  den  dey  take  me  an’  tie  me.  I beg 
’em  not  to  kill  me,  an’  dey  say  I must  confess  whar 
my  gold  was;  but  as  I didn’t  hab  no  more  I c’u’dn’t 
confess  nothing,  could  I,  missy?” 

“No;  but  what  then?” 

“Dey  hangs  me  up  to  a tree  ontil  I were  ’most 

dead.” 


330  Brick  the  Bravo’s  Story. 

“The  brutes!'’  indignantly  said  Janette. 

“Yes,  missy,  so  dey  was ; but  den  dey  let  me  down, 
an’  still  I c’u’dn’t  confess  what  I didn’t  know,  an’  den 
dey  said  dey  was  goin’  to  bury  me  alive,  an’  dey 
makes  a coffin  ob  de  boards  ob  my  cabin  an’  digs  a 
grave. 

“Den  dey  asks  me  if  I would  confess;  but  I c’u’dn’t, 
missy,  an’  dey  put  me  in  de  coffin  and  I gib  up  all  hope, 
when  a gemman  corned  up  on  horseback  an’  seen  what 
were  goin  ’on. 

“He  tole  ’em  to  let  me  go,  an’  he  covered  'em  wid 
his  revolvers,  missy,  an’  dey  jist  hunted  de  hills  mighty 
quick.  Den  de  gemman  git  down  off  his  horse,  an’ 
untie  me,  an’  tell  me  to  come  wid  him  an’  he.  would 
protect  me.’’ 

“And  that  gentleman  was  Captain  Hyena?’’  said 
Janette,  with  a sneer. 

“Yas,  missy,  it  were  him,  an’  I hain’t  forgit  him 
fer  it,  nor  does  I intend  ter.  What  time  will  missy 
hab  breakfast  in  de  mornin’  ?” 

“At  any  time  you  please,”  announced  Janette 
shortly;  - ^ convinced  that  she  could  never  bribe 


Brick  the  Bravo’s  Story.  221 

Brick  to  help  her,  she  walked  back  into  the  cabin,  for 
night  was  now  settling  down. 

A few  moments  after  the  negro  followed  her  with  a 
lamp  and  some  books,  while  he  said : 

“Massy  hab  sent  you  dese,  missy.” 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


REOPENING  OLD  WOUNDS. 

So  worn  out  was  Janette  that  the  sun  was  shining 
down  into  the  canon  the  following  morning  when  she 
awoke.  Hastily  rising,  she  soon  after  appeared  to  the 
eyes  of  Brick,  who  was  preparing  as  sumptuous  a 
breakfast  for  her  as  had  been  her  supper. 

But  Janette  was  nervous,  and  did  not  eat  with  the 
same  relish,  as  she  could  not  tell  what  the  coming  in- 
terview would  bring  forth,  when  the  chief  would  have 
his  promised  talk  with  her. 

The  idea  of  her  being  rescued  did  not  enter  her 
mind,  for  she  knew  a force  large  enough  to  attempt 
it  could  not  be  spared  from  the  fort,  and  even  Buffalo 
Bill  could  not  alone  take  her  from  the  power  of  so 
many  outlaws. 

Then,  too,  the  Red  Angels,  in  changing  horses  as 
they  had,  and  sending  those  that  were  used  up  off  in  a 
different  direction,  had  certainly  confused  the  trail 
even  for  th~  most  skilful  trailer,  and  any  on"  pursuing 


Reopening  Old  Wounds.  323 

would  just  as  likely  go  off  on  one  of  these  false  trails 
as  to  take  the  right  one. 

To  follow  her,  too,  the  trail  would  have  to  be  taken 
up  at  the  Monkton  Ranch,  and  with  no  relays  of  horses 
whoever  pursued  would  make  slow  work  of  it  and  be 
days  reaching  the  canon,  and  much  longer,  if  they  first 
struck  the  false  trails  of  the  riderless  horses. 

Then,  too,  she  was  worried  about  who  it  was  that 
would  be  her  fellow  prisoner,  and  all  this  prevented 
her  enjoying  her  breakfast,  greatly  to  Brick’s  regret. 

“Where  is  your  master?”  she  asked,  as  she  arose 
from  the  little  table. 

“He  am  down  de  canon,  missy.” 

“I  see  none  of  the  men.” 

“You  would  see  ’em  if  you  started  to  walk  right  off, 
missy.” 

“Well,  tell  your  master  I am  ready  to  see  him  now.” 

“Yes,  missy,”  and  Brick  went  off  in  search  of  the 
chief,  while  Janette  paced  nervously  to  and  fro.  But 
when  she  saw  Captain  Hyena  approaching  she  became 
as  firm  as  a rock.  He  greeted  her  in  a courteous  man- 
ner, and  said : 

“Have  you  enjoyed  your  breakfast,  lady?” 


224  Reopening  Old  Wounds. 

“Yes,  your  servant  is  certainly  an  excellent  cook; 
but  my  desire,  sir,  is  to  talk  with  you  upon  another 
subject  than  cooking.” 

“Ah!  about  yourself?” 

“About  my  ransom !” 

“And  you  wish  to  know  the  price  I set  on  you?” 

“I  do.” 

The  chief  was  silent  a moment,  and  then  said : 

“Lady,  I have  a little  revenge  to  satisfy  against 
you.” 

“Indeed ! how  have  I wronged  you  ?” 

“Let  me  tell  you  something  of  the  past,  to  prove 
just  what  you  have  done.” 

“I  shall  be  edified,”  haughtily  returned  Janette. 

“Lady,  were  you  ever  in  love  ?” 

“How  dare  you  ask  me  such  a question  ?” 

“Be  calm,  lady,  and  keep  your  temper,  for  by 
doing  so  you  serve  yourself.  Now  kindly  answer  my 
question.” 

“What  is  it  to  you,  sir?” 

“Much.” 

“No,  I have  never  been  in  love.” 

;Are  you  sure  ?” 


Reopening  Old  Wounds.  225 

Janette  was  seated  upon  the  bench  against  the  cabin, 
while  Captain  Kit  had  drawn  up  a chair  opposite  to 
her.  At  his  words  her  face  became  crimson,  and  then, 
the  blood  retreating,  she  became  as  pale  as  death,  and 
was  on  her  feet  in  an  instant. 

“Be  good  enough  not  to  excite  yourself,  madam, 
but  answer  my  question  frankly." 

“I  will  not.” 

“Then  all  negotiation  ends  between  us.” 

Janette  bit  her  lips  viciously,  and  seeing  the  outlaw 
about  to  walk  away,  she  called  out : 

“One  moment!” 

“Yes,  madam.”  x 

“What  is  it  you  wish  to  know?” 

“If  you  were  ever  in  love.” 

“Yes,”  and  the  word  came  out  with  a snap. 

“You  are  very  young,  I believe?” 

“Yes.” 

“You  look  older  than  you  are;  but  you  are  about 
seventeen,  are  you  not?” 

“I  am,”  said  Janette. 

“That  love  is  the  one  love  of  your  life,  I believe?” 

“Yes ; but  tell  me  how  you  knew  of  that  other.” 


226  Reopening  Old  Wounds. 

“I  will  tell  you  nothing,  at  least  now.  It  is  said 
that  a woman  can  love  but  once  in  a certain  way.  Is 
such  true  in  your  case?” 

“I  was  hardly  in  my  teens  then.” 

“You  were  older  then  than  most  girls  of  eighteen, 
for  your  heart  and  brain  developed  rapidly.  Did  you 
not  love  your  lover  with  all  your  heart  ?” 

“I  did.” 

“Have  you  forgotten  him?” 

“No.  For  Heaven’s  sake,  tell  me  why  you  make  me 
suffer  as  you  do?”  cried  Janette  in  pitiful  tones. 

“Now,  tell  me,  do  you  not  still  love  that  other 
man?” 

“Yes.” 

“But  you  believe  him  lost  to  you  forever?” 

“Yes.” 

“But  you  met  that  old  love  again  and  you  felt  the 
old  passion  revive  for  him.” 

“Oh,  tell  me  why  do  you  torture  me? 

“You  must  school  yourself  to  bear  all,  so  answer 

i)  ^ 

me. 


“What  shall  I answer?” 


Reopening  Old  Wounds.  227 

“When  you  met  your  old  lover  did  your  heart  not 
go  forth  to  him  as  of  yore?” 

“It  did,  God  knows.” 

“You  seem  to  have  forgotten  one  important  event 
of  your  life.” 

“What?” 

“An  event  that  no  woman  should  ever  forget.” 

“To  what  do  you  refer?” 

“That  you  had  no  right  to  love  this  man.” 

“No  right  to  do  so?” 

“Yes.” 

“And  why,  pray,  if  so  I chose?” 

“ Because  you  are  already  married,”  came  in  cold, 
cutting  tones  from  the  lips  of  the  Red  Angel  chief. 

In  spite  of  her  self-command,  Janette  uttered  a 
startled  cry,  and  her  face  paled  and  flushed  by  turns. 

“What  can  you  mean  by  saying  such  a thing  of 
me?”  she  almost  gasped,  and  then,  becoming  indig- 
nant. 

“Do  you  deny  my  assertion?” 

“Of  course  I deny  it.” 

“Be  careful,  madam.” 

“I  am  careful.” 


228 


Reopening  Old  Wounds. 

“You  assert  that  you  were  never  married?” 

“I  do  assert  it.” 

“You  are  Janette  Joslyn?” 

“Yes.” 

“Daughter  of  Richard  Joslyn,  of  H , a one-time 

wealthy  merchant?” 

“Yes.” 

| “And  you  deny  that  you  have  been  wedded?” 

| “I  do.” 

I “Think  back  a few  years.” 

j “I  have  but  a few  years  of  life  to  recall,  sir.” 

! 

! “Let  me  remind  you  of  certain  things  of  the  past, 
as  your  memory  seems  to  be  treacherous.” 

“I  defy  you  to  do  so.” 

“Were  you  not  once  married  to  your  father’s 
adopted  son,  Paul?” 

“Oh!  that  is  what  you  refer  to  as  a marriage?” 
“Yes.” 

“It  was  a play-marriage  between  Paul  and  myself, 
when  I was  a mere  child.” 

“You  are  a mere  child  yet  in  the  eyes  of  the  law.” 

“I  tell  you  the  other  was  a mock  marriage.” 


Reopening  Old  Wounds.  229 

“You  think  so,  madam  ?” 

“I  know  so.” 

“Pray  tell  me  the  circumstances.” 

“Well,  Paul  was  wont  to  call  me  his  little  sweet- 
heart, and  one  day  said : 

“ ‘Let  us  get  married,  Janie.’ 

“I  consented,  as  it  was  a good  joke,  and  got  the 
prayer-book  for  him  to  read  the  service;  but  he  said 
we  would  have  a grand  time  of  it,  and  as  I was  to  have 
a party,  with  tableaux,  it  should  be  then.  So  I changed 
with  my  maid,  one  of  my  mother's  dresses  to  fit  me, 
and  one  of  the  tableaux  was  the  marriage  of  Paul  and 
myself.” 

“Who  performed  the  ceremony?” 

“A  young  man  who  was  a friend  of  Paul’s,  and 
whom  I never  saw  before  or  after.” 

“Was  there  not  a license  and  certificate  given?” 

“There  was  some  paper  gotten  up  to  carry  out  the 
joke.” 

“And  you  signed  your  name,  as  he  did  his,  and  then 
the  witnesses  put  their  signatures  to  the  document?” 


“I  believe  s.o.” 


230  Reopening  Old  Wounds. 

"And  that  was  your  mock  marriage?” 

"Yes.” 

"You  are  mistaken.” 

"I  am  not.” 

"Your  father  gave  the  bride  away?” 

"Yes,  to  help  the  tableaux.” 

"It  was  no  mock  marriage,  madam.” 

"Oh ! what  can  you  mean  ?”  and  Janette  looked1 
deeply  distressed. 

"I  mean  just  this : that  Paul’s  friend  was  a clerk 
of  the  court,  who,  for  a good  sum  in  hand  paid,  con- 
sented to  get  the  license  and  marriage-certificate,  ac- 
cording to  law,  and  the  whole  ceremony  was  as  legal 
and  binding  as  the  law  can  make  it,  your  age  being 
against  it,  it  is  true;  but  you  are  yet  only  a child.” 

Janette  was  astounded,  and  sat  in  silence,  gazing 
upon  the  masked  face  before  her. 

"I  cannot  believe  you,”  she  at  last  said. 

“I  can  give  you  proof  that  the  marriage  was  duly 
entered,  and  here  are  papers  to  substantiate  it,  and 
here  is  your  certificate.” 

He  took  from  his  pocket  papers  of  an  official-look- 
ing nature,  and  handed  them  to  her. 


Reopening  Old  Wounds.  231 

She  looked  for  a moment  as  though  she  meant  to 
destroy  them;  but  he  said,  as  though  divining  her  in- 
tention : 

“As  the  record  has  been  made,  other  papers  can  be 
secured  if  those  are  destroyed.” 

“I  will  not  destroy  them,  sir.  Oh,  how  cruel  it  was 
of  Paul  to  deceive  me  so.” 

“No,  it  was  not  cruel  of  him,  for  he  idolized  you, 
and  did  not  wish  to  lose  you,  so  did  this  to  have  a 
claim  upon  you  that  would  give  you  to  him  in  after 
years.  He  loved  you,  and  he  sinned  against  you  to 
win  you ; so  do  not  blame  him  for  what  he  did,  for  he 
sought  you  out  here  on  the  border  to  make  you  his 
wife  before  the  world,  but  fearing  you  loved  another: 
he  suffered  in  silence.” 

“And  who  are  you  that  speak  for  him?” 

“I  am  his  friend,  and  one  who  knows  how,  deeply 
he  loved  you.” 

“And  you  are  his  friend?” 

“I  am.” 

“An  outlaw  the  friend  of  an  honest  man?” 

“Yes;  for  he  has  done  me  many  a favor,  and  I have 
helped  him  before  I was  what  I am.” 


332  Reopening  Old  Wounds. 

“When  did  you  see  him  last?” 

“A  half-hour  ago.” 

Janette  started  and  cried: 

“He  is  here,  do  you  mean?” 

“I  do.” 

“Where?” 

“Down  the  canon  among  my  men.” 

tti  • * ' >1  • • • ' • 

“Let  me  go  to  him.” 

“No.  I will  send  him  to  you.” 

“Why  is  he  here?” 

“As  my  prisoner  ” was  the  cool  reply,  and  Janette 
gave  a moan  of  anguish  and  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands. 

“Your  prisoner?”  at  last  said  Janette. 

“Yes.” 

“And  yet  you  say  that  you  are  his  friend.” 

“I  am.” 

“This  is  a strange  paradox.” 

“Let  me  explain  it. 

“As  ray  friend  I wished  to  serve  him,  and  to  do  so 
I have  to  be  seemingly  harsh  toward  him.  Knowing 
as  I did,  for  I was  in  the  past  his  confidant,  of  his 


Reopening  Old  Wounds.  233 

marriage  to  you,  and  seeing  him  suffer  calmly  and 
in  silence,  I determined  to  aid  him. 

"Then  I made  you  captive,  and  also  took  your 
guardian,  Buffalo  Bill,  a prisoner,  too.  Now  I have 
you  in  my  power,  and  you  can  both  gain  your  liberty 
in  but  one  way.” 

"And  what  way  is  that?” 

“That  you  acknowledge  yourself  the  wife  of  Paul 
Monkton.” 

"If  what  you  say  is  true,  about  the  legality  of  the 
marriage ” 

"You  have  the  papers,  judge  for  yourself,”  inter- 
rupted the  man. 

She  carefully  glanced  over  the  papers,  and  then 
said: 

"I  cannot  doubt  them  as  proof,  and  so  must  ac- 
knowledge  myself  the  wife  of  Paul.” 

“Will  it  not  be  a pleasure  for  you  to  do  so?” 

"I  love  Paul  with  all  my  heart.  I would  gladly 
claim  him  as  my  husband  if  he  asked  it.  But  he  was 
weak  to  stand  aside  while  he  held  a claim  upon  me.” 

"He  was  too  generous  to  make  you  unhappy,  as  he 
believed  he  would,  for  he  believed  you  loved  another.” 


234  Reopening  Old  Wounds. 

“Let  me  see  Paul,  and  then  we  will  decide ; but  one 
thing  is  certain.” 

“Well?”  he  asked,  as  Janette  set  her  teeth  firmly. 

“We  will  go  far  away  from  the  baleful  atmosphere 
of  your  presence,  for,  with  you,  the  murderer  of  my 
father,  and  the  vile  wretch  I know  you  to  be,  as  the 
friend  of  my  husband,  he  can  never  prosper  in  the 
world — never,  never,  never!” 

“As  you  please,  madam,”  was  the  cold  reply. 

Then  Janette  asked  quickly : 

“Will  you  allow  me  to  return  myself,  that  I may 
tell  dear  old  Major  Monkton  and  my  guardian?” 

“No,  you  must  remain  here  a prisoner,  and,  with 
you  as  a hostage,  your  husband  will  be  certain  to  re- 
turn. This  is  my  ultimatum,  Mrs.  Paul  Monkton.” 

“Send  Paul  here,  for  I can  but  accept  the  situation,” 
said  the  young  wife ; and  with  one  of  his  courtly  bows, 
the  outlaw  chief  departed  from  the  cabin. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


HOW  THE  BLOW  FELL. 

Words  are  inadequate  to  portray  the  scenes  at  the 
fort  when  it  became  known  that  Janette  Joslyn  was 
missing. 

Riding  at  full  speed,  when  summoned  by  Kendrick, 
the  courier,  Buffalo  Bill  had  arrived  at  the  fort,  never 
doubting  that  the  man  had  told  the  truth. 

Superbly  mounted,  he  dashed  into  the  fort,  his  horse 
white  with  foam  and  panting  like  a hound. 

“Great  God,  Cody!  what  has  happened?”  cried 
Major  Benteen,  who  was  just  about  to  retire,  but 
looked  out  at  the  clatter  of  hoofs. 

“Nothing  has  happened,  sir.  You  sent  for  me  in 
haste,  and  I have  made  it.” 

“I  sent  for  you  ?” 

“Certainly,  the  courier,  Kendrick ” 

“Forgive  me,  Cody ; but  there  is  something  wrong 
here.  Kendrick  deserted  the  post  to-day,  for  some  un- 
accountable reason.” 


236  How  the  Blow  Fell. 

“Then  this  is  that  Hyena’s  work.  I will  at  dice  re- 
turn to  the  ranch,  sir.” 

“And  Burt  and  his  company  shall  go  with  you,  for 
this  needs  looking  into,”  and  in  fifteen  minutes  after 
Buffalo  Bill  was  dashing  along  on  his  way  back  to 
Monkton  Ranch. 

Upon  one  side  of  him  was  Night  Hawk,  also  .freshly 
mounted,  and  on  the  other  Captain  Burt,  and  the  three 
rode  on  in  silence,  while  behind  them  came  thirty 
troopers,  the  clashing  of  steel  keeping  up  an  accom- 
paniment to  the  thud  of  the  many  hoofs  upon  the 
prairie  sod. 

Arriving  at  the  ranch,  they  found  Major  Monkton 
abed,  but  he  was  quickly  aroused  and  told  how  the 
courier  had  returned  with  a party  of  soldiers  after 
Janette,  and  shortly  after  his  nephew  had  decided  that 
it  was  best  for  him  to  go  home,  and  had  also  de- 
parted. 

This  was  all  that  the  major  knew,  and  then  the 
men  sat  in  the  parlor  talking  over  the  strange  affair, 
for  nothing  could  be  done  until  the  morning,  when 
the  trail  could  be  read  by  the  scouts. 

Outside,  the  soldiers  went  into  a bivouac,  arid  within 


How  the  Blow  Fell. 


2 37 

the  cabin  the  major  and  his  guests  talked  through  the 
night 

With  the  first  glimmer  of  dawn,  Buffalo  Bill  and 
Night  Hawk  set  to  work.  The  spot  where  the  pre- 
tended soldiers  had  lain  in  wait  until  the  courier  first 
went  alone  to  the  ranch  was  found,  and  then  his  track 
from  the  trail  to  the  fort  over  to  join  them,  when  his 
horse  was  temporarily  lamed  by  the  string,  tied  about 
his  leg. 

Then  the  course  taken  by  the  kidnapers,  with  the 
well-known  hoof-tracks  in  their  midst  of  Janette’s 
spotted  pony,  was  found. 

This  was,  of  course,  the  trail  to  follow,  and  after 
breakfast  they  were  about  to  mount  and  dash  off  on 
it,  when  a cowboy  arrived  from  up  the  river,  stating 
that  the  Indians  had  appeared  in  force  and  captured 
Paul  Monkton  before  he  reached  his  ranch. 

"Take  the  larger  number  of  your  men,  Captain 
OBurt,  and  try  and  rescue  that  gallant  young  fellow, 
and  with  the  balance  I will  follow  this  trail,  for  I am 
confident  it  will  lead  me  to  where  they  hold  Janette 
a prisoner,”  said  the  scout. 

This  advice  was  about  to  be  followed,  when  a young 


238  How  the  Blow  Pell. 

officer,  accompanied  by  two  of  the  fort  scouts,  dashed 
up  with  word  for  the  soldiers  to  return  at  once  to  the 
fort,  as  Wolf  Fang  was  marching  against  it  with  half 
a thousand  warriors. 

“Cody)  in  God’s  name,  what  is  to  be  done?”  said 
Captain  Burt. 

“You  must  obey  orders.” 

“But  Miss  Joslyn?” 

“Yes,  she  is  in  the  power  of  those  wretches,  but  I 
shall  return  with  you  to  the  fort,  where  my  services 
will  be  needed  if  there  is  a fight  with  the  Indians. 
Come,  let  us  return  at  once,  for  the  summons  is  ur- 
gent,” and  Buffalo  Bill  rode  to  the  front. 

The  report  of  the  capture  of  the  young  ranchero  by 
Indians  was  false;  but  then,  that  story  was  one  of 
Captain  Kit’s  strokes  in  the  great  blow  he  was  giving. 

The  report  of  the  advance  of  Wolf  Fang  and  his 
warriors  was  true,  and  the  cavalry  squadron  had  to 
cut  their  way  through  the  Indian  forces  to  reach  the 
fort. 

When  they  did  so,  it  was  found  that  two  soldiers 
had  fallen  and  several  had  received  wounds. 


How  the  Blow  Fell. 


239 

Then  the  cry  arose  that  Night  Hawk,  the  scout,  was 
missing. 

At  the  words,  Buffalo  Bill  wheeled  and  dashed  back 
over  the  field. 

In  terror,  the  Indians  fled  from  his  path,  though 
showers  of  arrows  were  sent  after  him,  while  his 
revolvers  rattled  forth  continual  death-knells  as  he 
rode  along. 

On  the  field  he  beheld  the  bodies  of  two  soldiers, 
their  heads  scalped,  but  nowhere  was  the  scout  visible. 

Wheeling  again,  the  daring  man  started  back  to  the 
fort,  while  the  redskins  rushed  to  head  him  off.  But 
the  fort  cannon  opened  upon  them,  spreading  death 
in  their  ranks,  and  sending  them  flying  to  safety  from 
the  fearful  “horse-guns,”  as  they  called  artillery,  and 
Buffalo  Bill  rode  back  into  the  stockade  walls,  amid 
the  cheers  of  the  soldiers,  with  not  a wound  upon  him. 

"Can  they  have  captured  Night  Hawk,  and  reserved 
him  for  torture?”  asked  Major  Benteen  anxiously. 

“No,  major,  he  is  safe,  I am  sure,  and  purposely 
dropped  out  when  we  charged  for  the  fort,  for  he  has 
seen  some  work  to  do  outside,”  was  the  answer  of 
Buffalo  Bill. 


84<>  How  the  Blow  Fell. 

When  the  scout  saw  the  fear  with  which  the  artil- 
lery inspired  the  Indians,  he  suggested  to  Major  Ben- 
teen  the  advisability  of  sending  the  guns  out  at  once 
to  the  attack,  supported  by  a large  force  of  cavalry. 

The  suggestion  was  acted  upon  so  promptly  that  in 
a few  minutes  the  artillerists  were  manning  their  guns 
upon  the  open  prairie,  charging  with  them,  firing,  and 
again  charging. 

The  effect  was  demoralizing  in  the  extreme  upon 
the  redskins,  who  sought  safety  in  the  nearest  timber 
with  an  alacrity  that  five  times  the  force  in  men,  with- 
out the  guns,  could  not  have  made  them  show. 

The  soldiers  followed  them,  and  when  the  shells 
began  to  tear  through  the  trees,  bursting  here  and 
there,  the  braves  were  seized  with  a panic,  and  ha- 
stened to  decamp  at  full  speed. 

Back  to  the  fort  then  went  the  triumphant  artil- 
lerists, while  the  cavalry  pursued  the  redskins,  who, 
disappointed  at  not  being  able  to  capture  the  fort  as 
they  hoped  to  do,  determined  to  raid  the  ranches. 

But  the  rancheros  were  already  on  the  war-path, 
and  a large  force  of  cowboys,  under  the  command  of 
Major  Monkton,  met  the  flying  Indians  and  brought 


241 


How, the  Blow  Fell. 

them  to  a stand,  while  the  soldiers  coming  up,  a severe 
battle  was  begun. 

Sending  back  to  the  fort  for  reenforcements,  Major 
Benteen  marshaled  his  soldiers,  scouts,  and  the  cow- 
boys in  line  of  battle  and  began  to  press  his  red  ene- 
mies. 

But  Wolf  Fang  was  a good  general.  He  kept  his 
braves  well  together,  and  though  retreating,  carried 
off  his  dead  and  wounded,  and  would  not  be  driven 
at  a greater  speed  than  he  found  it  safe  to  go. 

Night  coming  on,  the  running  fight  was  still  kept 
up,  Major  Benteen  halting  a part  of  his  force  at  a time 
for  rest  and  food,  and  then  bringing  them  to  the  front 
while  others  rested. 

Only  the  Indian  nature,  inured  to  hardships,  fatigue, 
and  danger,  could  have  stood  this  terrible  strain  upon 
Wolf  Fang  and  his  braves.  But  stand  it  they  did,  and 
when  the  morning  came,  only  the  red  stains  upon  the 
ground  here  and  there,  with  a dead  pony  now  and 
then,  showed  that  the  braves  had  suffered  fi'om  the 
soldiers’  fire ; for  the  slain  and  wounded  were  borne 
off  with  their  retreating  comrades. 

With  their  superior  force,  Major  Benteen  dared  not 


How  the  Blow  Fell. 


242 

press  them  into  the  hill-land,  so  at  last  gave  the  order 
to  march  back  to  the  fort,  knowing  that  the  enemy  had 
been  too  badly  punished  to  follow. 

Several  days  passed,  and  then  there  came  an  im- 
portant arrival  at  the  fort  in  no  less  a personage  than 
Paul  Monkton,  the  young  ranchero. 

His  story  was  soon  told,  and  a story  it  was,  for  he 
could  not  tell  the  truth  under  the  circumstances,  and 
stated  that  he  had  been  captured  by  the  Indians  and 
had  managed  to  make  his  escape. 

Coming  back  by  his  ranch,  he  found  that  a small 
band  of  Indians,  in  their  retreat,  had  burned  it  and 
driven  off  his  cattle,  while  his  cowboys  had  scattered, 
so  that  he  intended  to  leave  that  part  of  the  country. 

He  showed  considerable  feeling  when  told  about 
the  kidnaping  of  Janette,  and  offered  to  join  Buffalo 
Bill  in  an  attempt  to  rescue  her. 

But  the  scout  said  : 

“I  thank  you,  Monkton,  but  I must  wait  a while,  as 
my  duties  tie  me  here.  But  some  day  I shall  take 
the  trail  of  Janette’s  kidnapers,  and  I shall  follow  it 
to  the  death.  Major  Benteen  has  offered  to  send  a 


How  the  Blow  Fell. 


243 


force  with  me  to  search  for  her ; but  strategy,  not  force, 
must  rescue  her,  and  I believe  she  is  only  held  for 
ransom,  and  will  be  well  treated.  If  not,  then  woe  be 
unto  those  who  had  a hand  in  her  carrying  off.” 

Paul  Monkton  muttered  to  himself : 

“He  is  determined  to  kill  Captain  Kit,  that  is  cer- 
tain, and  he  is  just  the  man  to  do  it,  so  Captain  Kit 
must  look  out.” 

4 

When  asked  why  he  did  not  remain  on  the  ranch 
with  his  uncle,  who  was  getting  old  and  needed  aid 
and  companionship,  Paul  Monkton  said  he  would  often 
visit  him,  but  that  he  had  some  mines  in  Colorado 
that  demanded  his  attention,  and  as  his  ranch  had 
been  burned,  he  would  take  that  opportunity  of  look- 
ing after  his  mining-interests. 

That  afternoon  he  departed  from  the  fort,  followed 
by  the  good  wishes  of  all,  for  he  was  a general  favor- 
ite, and  promising  to  return  before  long  to  find  out 
what  had  been  the  fate  of  poor  Janette. 

Hardly  had  Paul  Monkton  gotten  out  of  sight,  when 
a shout  arose  that  Night  Hawk  was  coming  across  the 
prairie.  Soon  all  not  on  duty  were  assembled  to  greetj 
him. 


244 


How  the  Blow  Fell. 

Waving  his  hat  to  the  salutations  given  him,  Night 
Hawk  grasped  Buffalo  Bill’s  hand,  and  said : 

“Come  with  me  to  the  major’s  quarters.” 

Major  Benteen  warmly  welcomed  the  scout. 

“Glad  to  see  you  safely  back  again,  Powell,”  he 
said,  “but  what  have  you  been  doing  all  these  days  to 
cause  us  all  such  anxiety  about  you?” 

“I  will  tell  you,  sir,  and  must  beg  you  to  pardon  my 
going  off  without  orders.  When  I saw  the  Indians 
surrounding  the  fort,  I felt  that  it  would  be  impossi- 
ble to  get  out,  should  I ever  go  in,  and  I therefore 
dropped  back  and  let  the  others  ride  on.” 

“But  your  motive,  Night  Hawk?” 

“First,  sir,  to  ride  to  Fort  Morgan  and  state  how 
you  were  situated  here ” 

“Ah!  that  accounts  for  the  message  from  Colonel 
Royal  that  he  would  send  me  troops  at  once;  but  I sent 
a courier  back  to  say  I did  not  need  them.  You  did 
well,  Powell,  for  it  threatened  to  be  a serious  affair 
for  us,  and  all  along  the  border ; but  the  truth  is,  Gen- 
eral Wolf  Fang  did  not  have  warriors  enough  to  do 
the  work  he  so  well  planned,  and  besides,  Buffalo  Bill 
tells  me  that  the  smallpox  carried  off  many  of  the 


How  the  Blow  Fell. 


245 


tribe’s  best  warriors  and  renegade  chiefs.  Had  there 
been  several  hundred  more  of  them,  there  might  be  a 
different  story  to  tell  now,  and  we  would  have  needed 
all  the  aid  Colonel  Royal  could  send  us.” 

“Well,  Major  Benteen,  I am  glad  I did  not  do  so 
wrong  in  going  without  orders;  but  I must  confess  to 
another  motive,  too,  in  not  coming  into  the  fort,  other 
than  the  one  alluded  to.” 

“And  what  was  that,  Night  Hawk?” 

“I  observed  that  Buffalo  Bill  allowed  duty  to  call 
him  here  when  he  knew  that  his  ward  was  in  the  hands 
of  the  Red  Angels,  and  I determined  to  follow  their 
trail  to  where  it  was  fresh.” 

“Right  you  were  again,  Powell,”  cried  the  major. 
“And  the  result,  Night  Hawk?” 

“I  had  observed  that  where  we  left  the  trail  the 
kidnapers  were  moving  southwest,  and,  therefore, 
Colorado  was  doubtless  their  destination.  After  seeing 
Colonel  Royal,  I took  a cut  across,  to  see  if  I would 
run  upon  any  trail. 

“I  did  so,  and  there  were  just  the  number  of  horses 
we  had  noticed  among  the  kidnapers;  but  the  spotted 
pony’s  track  was  not  among  the  others. 

--V  ~ ^ 


How  the  Blow  Fell. 


246 

“Still,  I thought  that  in  a plot  so  well  planned  as 
that  one  was,  a relay  of  horses  must  have  been  wait- 
ing, and  I decided  to  follow  the  trail,  which  I did. 

“It  was  not  very  long  before  I came  to  where  the 
trail  had  been  strangely  divided.  One  horse  had  been 
suddenly  wheeled  off  to  the  right,  it  seemed,  and  then 
the  others  had  followed,  and,  after  a short  run,  this 
same  single  track  I noticed  had  halted  at  one  single 
place,  when  the  others  had  formed  a circle  around  it. 
From  here  the  tracks  led  back  to  the  original  trail, 
and  it  looked  to  me  as  though  an  escape  had  been 
attempted. 

“Following  the  trail,  I came  into  the  hill-land,  and 
saw  where  another  trail,  numbering  one  more  horse, 
had  joined  the  one  I was  on.  Farther  on  the  same 
thing  occurred,  an  equal  number  of  tracks  as  the  last 
one  forming  the  trail,  and  among  them  was  the  track 
of  Janette’s  spotted  pony. 

“These  trails,  sir,  showed  me  that  I was  on  the 
right  track,  and  that  the  additional  ones  were  the 
tracks  of  two  relays  of  horses,  which  had  gone  off 
fiom  the  changing-place  on  different  courses,  to  con- 
fuse pursuers.  Following  this  broad  trail  into  the 


How  the  Blow  Fell. 


247 


hills,  I tracked  it  until  night,  and  then  camped.  I 
built  no  fire,  and  as  I was  wrapping  my  blanket  about 
me,  I saw  the  glimmer  of  a light. 

“On  foot  I went  toward  it,  and  after  great  trouble 
found  that  it  was  the  reflection  on  the  side  of  a canon, 
cast  by  camp-fires  below.  Creeping  nearer,  I discov- 
ered the  kidnapers  camped  in  the  canon,  and  appar- 
ently safe  in  their  retreat.  Making  this  discovery,  I 
went  back  to  my  tired  horse,  and  pressed  on  here  as 
rapidly  as  he  could  bring  me,  to  let  Buffalo  Bill  know 
just  what  I had  found  out.” 

“If  you  say  so,  George,  and  the  major  will  spare 
you,  we  will  start  to-night,”  said  the  scout. 

“I  will  spare  him  with  pleasure,  Cody,  and  you  can 
have  what  men  you  need,  too.” 

“No,  thank  you,  Major  Benteen,  George  and  I will 
go  alone,  unless  his  brother  Will  arrives  in  time  to 
accompany  us.” 

“Who  slanders  Will  Powell?”  cried  the  cheery  voice 
of  that  handsome  young  ranchero,  as  he  stepped  into 
the  open  door,  having  evidently  just  ridden  into  the 
fort,  for  he  did  not  present  his  usual  neat  appearance,, 
but  was  travel-stained  and  tired-looking. 


248 


How  the  Blow  Fell. 

“I’m  here  to  speak  for  myself,  and  I’ve  news  for 
you,  I guess,”  he  continued.  “I  found  Janette.” 

"You!”  exclaimed  the  listeners,  in  a chorus. 

“Yes;  she  is  in  the  clutches  of  that  Satan’s  cub.  Cap- 
tain Hyena.” 

“Yes,  he  kidnaped  her  from  the  ranch,  by  one  of  the 
most  clever  plots  I ever  heard  of,  and  we  were  follow- 
ing his  trail  when  Wolf  Fang  and  his  warriors  brought 
us  here  to  defend  the  fort,”  said  Buffalo  Bill.  “But 
George  has  also  discovered  the  lair  of  this  outlawed 
serpent,  and  thither  we  were  to  start  to-night.” 

“Good!  Count  me  in,  of  course,  but  did  you  trail 
them  to  the  Canon  Hills,  George?” 

“Yes,  and  discovered  their  camp  in  a large  canon.” 

“The  very  place;  when  were  you  there?” 

“I  left  last  night.” 

“And  so  did  I.” 

“You  have  been  on  their  trail,  too.  Will,”  said  the 
scout. 

“I  will  tell  you  how  it  was,  Bill.  I was  coming  up 
to  see  you,  when  I got  on  the  chase  of  a band  of  elk, 
and  followed  them  a long  way  out  of  my  trail,  hoping 
to  get  one  fellow  that  had  the  grandest  horns  I ever 


How  the  Blow  Fell.  249 

saw.  At  last  I brought  the  fellow  down  in  a little 
copse  of  timber,  and  was  busy  looking  after  my  horns, 
when  something  caused  me  to  look  up,  and  I saw  two 
horsemen  almost  upon  me. 

“They  both  had  their  weapons  drawn,  and  had 
taken  advantage  of  my  being  at  work  to  ride  almost 
upon  me.  The  moment  I saw  them,  I threw  myself 
down  behind  the  body  of  the  elk,  just  as  their  revolvers 
cracked.  One  of  the  bullets  went  through  my  hat,  as 
you  see,  and  the  other  knocked  the  knife  from  my 
hand;  but  I had  already  gotten  my  grip  upon  my  re- 
volver-butt, and  fired  as  they  rode  upon  me. 

“One  of  the  men  I made  wolf-meat  of  at  once,  and 
I killed  the  other’s  horse ; but  the  rascal  was  as  nimble 
as  a cat,  caught  on  his  feet,  and  had  thrown  himself 
upon  the  horse  belonging  to  his  pard  before  I could 
get  a second  shot  at  him;  for  there  were  trees  here 
and  there,  and  I had  to  get  to  my  feet  and  then  start 
toward  him. 

“Lord  bless  you,  he  did  not  tarry  to  fight  it  out  or 
mourn  for  his  pard,  but  just  went  off  like  a shot.  My 
horse  was  tired  and  unsaddled,  so  I concluded  not  to 
follow  him,  but  to  investigate  the  one  who  had  re- 


250  How  the  Blow  Fell. 

mained.  He  was  one  of  the  Red  Angel  band,  and  he 
had  about  his  clothes  his  little  buckskin  bag  of  gold 
and  some  good  weapons,  which  I also  brought  with 
me. 

“Tied  to  the  back  of  the  dead  horse  was  an  antelope 
and  some  other  game,  so  I judged  the  fellows  must 
have  a camp  near,  and  were  out  hunting  when  they; 
found  me.  Well,  I got  my  horns  and  hid  them  in  the 
branches  of  a tree,  and,  after  taking  something  to  eat, 
I concluded  I’d  perform  the  funeral-rites  for  the  dead 
outlaw. 

“When  I had  put  him  in  a grave,  I decided  to  fol- 
low on  the  trail  of  his  pard,  and  did  so  until  night, 
when  I camped,  determined  to  keep  on  in  the  morning, 
for  I was  interested  in  knowing  what  he  was  doing  in 
that  part  of  the  country. 

“The  next  day  I discovered  the  villain’s  nest  in  a 
canon,  and  there  were  eight  more  with  him,  for  I 
climbed  to  the  top  of  the  hills  and  looked  down  upon 
them.  Nor  was  this  all,  for  there  was  a cabin  there, 
a teepee  near  it,  with  several  more  across  the  canon, 
which  came  to  an  end  just  beyond  the  little  hut. 

“Anxious  to  know  more,  I clung  to  mr  hiding-place. 


How  the  Blow  Fell. 


251 


and  I tell  you  it  gave  me  a start  that  caused  me  to 
nearly  let  go  my  hold  on  the  tree  and  drop,  when  I 
saw  none  other  than  Janette  walk  qut  of  the  cabin.” 

“She  was  not  bound  then  ?”  asked  Buffalo  Bill. 

“No  need  to  be  there,  Bill,  for,  unless  she  was  a 
Ijird,  she  could  not  escape  from  that  canon,  except  by 
going  by  the  teepees  where  the  men  were.” 

“How  many  of  them  in  all  ?” 

“I  counted  nine,  with  the  man  who  had  deserted  me 
and  his  dead  pard  in  such  haste.” 

“Did  you  see  the  chief?” 

“No,  but  I judged  that  the  teepee  near  the  cabin 
was  his  layout;  but  yes,  there  was  one  other  there, 
and  that  was  the  huge  negro  servant  of  the  Hyena.  I 
concluded  to  wait  until  dark,  after  I saw  Janette,  and 
did  so,  and  up  the  canon  came  the  negro,  his  arms  full 
of  wood.  He  built  a fire,  and  then  cooked  a supper, 
the  smell  of  which  made  me  feel  as  though  I was 
starving.” 

“And  Janette?” 

“The  supper  was  for  her,  and  she  watched  the 
negro  cooking  it,  and  then  ate  as  though  she  was 
hungry.  Then,  as  it  was  dark,  she  went  into  the 


252 


How  the  Blow  Fell. 


cabin,  the  negro  lighting  a lamp  for  her  at  the  fire, 
and  I was  in  hopes  it  would  burst  and  blow  his  head 
off ; but  no  such  good  luck. 

“I  waited  until  that  darky  made  me  sick,  eating 
so  much,  for  he  fell  to  like  a hungry  hound,  after 
Janette  left,  and  as  far  as  I could  see-,  he  left 
nothing  for  breakfast.  But  as  I had  lost  my  lariat  in 
my  chase  of  the  elk,  and  had  no  means  of  getting 
down  into  the  canon,  I concluded  to  come  on  here  and 
tell  you  just  what  I had  seen;  but  if  I had  had  a 
couple  of  lassoes,  I would  have  lowered  myself  down 
into  the  canon,  and  it  can  be  done." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

WELL  MET. 

It  was  drawing  toward  the  close  of  day,  and,  having 
ridden  steadily,  with  only  two  halts  for  rest,  the  trio 
allowed  their  horses  to  go  at  a slow  gait,  while  they 
humanely  dismounted  and  walked  on  ahead,  to  relieve 
the  animals  of  their  weight,  and  at  the  same  time  not 
lose  time  by  a halt,  « 

Will  Powell  had  said  that  two  hours  more  would 
bring  them  to  the  hills,  from  whence  a short  distance 
on  foot  would  take  them  to  the  spot  from  whence  they 
could  look  down  into  the  canon. 

As  they  neared  the  foot-hills,  their  quick  eyes  fell 
simultaneously  upon  an  object  moving  in  the  timber. 

“It  is  a horseman,”  said  Broncho  Bill. 

“Yes;  and  an  outlaw,  for  no  one  else  would  be  here. 
Shall  we  press  on,  Bill,  and  attempt  his  capture? — for 
if  we  are  discovered  it  will  destroy  all,”  remarked 
Night  Hawk. 

But  Buffalo  Bill  did  not  immediately  reply.  He  had 


Well  Met. 


254 

taken  his  field-glass  from  its  case  and  turned  it  upon 
the  timber. 

“Come  on,  for  there  is  only  one  man  there,  and  I 
know  him,”  he  said. 

“Who  is  it,  Bill?” 

“It  is  a gentleman  by  the  name  of  Dead  Knife  Jim.” 

“Ah ! the  outlaw  ?” 

“Yes.” 

“And  his  pards  may  be  at  his  back!” 

“I  think  not,  for  he  is  closely  observing  us.” 

And  on  the  party  moved  again  until  they  were  near 
their  timber,  when  they  mounted  their  horses  once 
more,  and  prepared  to  greet  foes,  if  foes  should  be 
there. 

Dead  Knife  Jim  had  retired  into  the  timber  a short 
distance,  and  was  not  visible,  but  his  horse  was,  so  that 
convinced  the  scout  that  he  had  not  run  off. 

As  they  entered  the  timber,  a voice  hailed  them 
with : 

“Halt,  thar!” 

“Aye,  aye,  Jim!”  called  out  Buffalo  Bill,  drawing} 
rein  and  motioning  to  the  others  to  do  likewise. 


Well  Met. 


255 

“Does  yer  come  as  friends,  or  on  ther  fight,  Pard 
Bill?” 

“Friends  to  you,  Jim,  but  foes  to  your  band  unto 
death.” 

“Then  that  are  ther  music  I wants  to  hear,  an’  here 
I are,  one  hand  up,”  and  with  his  single  hand  raised 
above  his  head,  the  outlaw  stepped  out  from  behind 
the  tree  that  had  sheltered  him. 

Instantly  the  trio  rode  forward  and  dismounted,  and 
Dead  Knife  Jim  half-extended  his  hand,  as  he  said : 

“Does  yer  fear  ter  take  my  hand  in  friendship,  Pard 
Bill,  ’cause  it  are  the  grip  of  a renegade?” 

“No,  Jim,  I take  your  hand  as  a friend,  for  you 
have  proven  such  to  me.” 

“And  you  did  ther  same  fer  me,  Bill,  an’  don’t 
you  forget  it;  I ain’t  forgut  it.” 

“You  have  a good  memory,  Jim,  so  perhaps  you 
have  seen  these  gentlemen  before?” 

“Now,  hain’t  I,  an’  no  mistake,  an’  I never  ’spected 
ter  be  this  near  ’em,  onless  we  was  fightin’  like  kittens 
an’  pups.” 

“You  know  us,  then?”  said  Broncho  Bill,  with  a . 

light  laugh. 


Well  Met. 


256 

“I  knows  you,  pard,  as  the  best  rider  I ever  seem 
back  horse-flesh,  ther  king  o’  lariat-throwers,  an’  no 
mean  shakes  as  a dead-shot,  while  yer  has  ther  pluck  o’ 
a whole  regiment  o’  sojers.” 

“Thank  you ; but  now  tell  me  what  you  think  of  this 
gentleman,”  and  Will  Powell  laid  his  hand  on  Night 
Hawk’s  shoulder. 

“I  think  he  are  like  you  fer  narve,  kin  trail  a coyote, 
an’  thet  you  is  three  of  a kind,  an’  kin  trap  arry  game 
ever  put  up  agin’  yer ; but,  Bill,  I were  agoin’  ter  hunt 
for  yer.” 

* “For  me,  Jim  ?” 

“Yas,  fer  I wanted  ter  see  yer  as  much  as  I wanted) 
a drink,  an’  thet  are  awful  bad.” 

“You  have  struck  a temperance  crowd  this  time,  Jim 
Dead  Knife.” 

“Not  that  we  belong  to  the  great  Society  of  Im- 
mortal Water-tanks,  but  then,  we  do  not  drink  from 
habit,”  said  Broncho  Bill. 

“So  I has  heerd,  an’  I guess  you  is  happier  fer  it. 
I were  a respectable- citizen  onst,  but  I got  some  purga- 
tory juice  inter  me,  an’  it  made  me  a whole  Satan, 
an’  when  I come  to  my  senses  I were  ahind  iron  bars. 


Well  Met.  257 

with  ninety-nine  chances  in  a hundred  o’  bein’  hanged 
three  times,  fer  thet  were  the  number  I made  cold 
meat  of. 

“But  I lighted  out  o’  jail  one  rainy  night,  an’  I hasn’t 
been  back  thar  ter  see  ef  they  misses  me  at  home,  an’ 
I ain’t  goin’.  No,  licker  are  only  good  ter  make  a 
coward  fight,  an’  them  as  don’t  know  how  to  handle 
it,  an’  ain’t  cowards,  with  no  flightin’  ter  do,  sh’u’d  let 
it  alone.” 

“You  are  right,  Jim;  but  tell  me  why  you  were  go- 
ing to  see  me?”  asked  Buffalo  Bill,  who  felt  that  the 
outlaw  had  something  important  to  communicate. 

“I  has  that  to  tell  you,  Bill,  as  will  surprise  you.” 

“You  will  find  me  most  willing  to  listen,  Jim,  but 
tell  me,  is  it  about  Miss  Joslyn?” 

“It  are.” 

“Is  she  safe?” 

“She  are.” 

“No  harm  has  befallen  her,  then?” 

“She  are  a prisoner/' 

“I  know  that,  Jim;  but  now  let  me  know  what  it  is 
that  y&u  have  to  tell  me/' 


25s 


Well  Met. 


“Waal,  let  us  go  up  inter  ther  hills  a leetle  farther, 
fer  some  o’  ther  boys  is  out  huntin’,  and  might  come 
round  by  here.  Thar  we  kin  talk,”  and  Dead  Knife 
Jim  led  the  way  to  a secluded  spot  in  the  hills,  where 
he  halted,  and,  after  staking  his  horse  out  to  feed, 
sat  down  upon  a log. 

The  trio  followed  his  example,  and  the  scout  said : 

“Now,  Jim,  tell  me  all,  for  I know  that  you  have 
much  to  tell,  and  in  this  affair,  as  in  others,  have  been 
my  friend.” 

“I  is  your  friend,  Bill,  an’  I has  thet  ter  tell  yer 
as  will  prove  it,”  was  the  earnest  response  of  the 
strange  man. 

For  some  moments  Dead  Knife  Jim  sat  in  silence. 
Then  he  said  abruptly : 

“Pard  Bill,  ef  I c’u’d  hev  know’d  what  ther  masked- 
faced fiend  were  up  ter,  he’d  hev  never  got  ther  leddy.” 

“I  believe  you,  Jim.” 

“But  yer  see,  he  works  as  sly  as  a coyote,  an’  hed 
ther  trap  ready  ter  spring  afore  I could  catch  on.  Yer 
knows  thet  courier  at  ther  fort  ?” 


“Kendrick?” 


Well  Met. 


259 


‘That’s  him.” 

“What  of  him?” 

“Waal,  ther  chief  know’d  him  afore,  an’  no  good  o’ 
him,  at  that,  fer  he  made  him  desart  ther  army  ter 
help  him.  An’  more,  ther  desarter  stole  saddles,  bri- 
dles, an’  uniforms  an’  sich,  fer  some  o’  our  outlaw  ga- 
loots ter  play  sojer  in,  an’,  oh,  Lordy!  it  made  me  git 
onto  my  hind  legs  an’  howl  with  fun  when  I seen  them 
fellers  when  daylight  broke  on  ’em. 

“Bill,  you  sh’u’d  hev  seen  ’em.  They  looked  well 
enough  at  night ; but  when  ther  sunlight  tuned  ’em  up 
they  didn’t  dasn’t  look  at  each  other,  fer  fear  they’d 
die  o’  fright,  they  looked  so  fierce  in  the’r  sojer  clo’es. 
But,  bad  as  they  was,  ther  courier  worked  ther  racket 
with  ’em  ter  git  ther  leddy  out  o’  ther  ranch. 

“We  fooled  her  along  ontil  we  changed  horses  three 
times,  by  tellin’  her  yer  wanted  her  ter  come  round 
thet  way  ter  git  cl’ar  o’  ther  Injuns ; but  when  daylight 
come,  an’  she  seen  ther  sojers,  she  jist  tarned  hen 
horse  out  o’  line  an’  made  a run  fer  it.  But  ther  crit- 
ter were  slow,  an’  we  caught  her,  in  course,  an’  she 
concluded  to  go  on  when  I told  her  gold-dust  were 
what  ther  chief  wanted.” 


26o 


Well  Met. 

“That  is  just  as  you  described  the  trails,  George; 
the  three  changes  of  horses,  the  running  off'  of  one, 
and  the  going  back  to  the  same  route,”  said  Buffalo 
Bill. 

Resuming,  Dead  Knife  Jim  said : 

“Waal,  we  carried  her  to  ther  old  retreat  o’  ther 
cap’n,  an’  camped  thar.  It  are  a canon,  running  back 
inter  ther  hills,  with  ther  rear  endin’  in  high  sides  thet 
nothin’  c’u’d  climb  up,  an’  nigh  onto  a hundred  feet 
high.  Thar  be  a cabin  thar  which  ther  cap’n  says  he 
builded  when  he  were  prospectin’  fer  gold  thar,  but 
didn’t  find.  We  hed  some  furnitur’,  blankets,  cook- 
in’-fixin’s,  teepees,  an’  sich  like  cached  up  in  ther  hills, 
an’  we  made  ther  leddy  comfortable  as  possible.” 

“But  where  was  Captain  Hyena  ?” 

“He  didn’t  put  in  an  appearance  at  fu’st,  yer  see.” 

“Is  he  there  now?” 

“No,  pard;  an’  ther  desarter,  who  is  our  loot’nent 
now,  sent  me  ter  find  him,  fer  a letter  corned  by  one 
o’  our  men  ter-day  thet  were  important,  I guesses,  and 
they  wants  ther  cap’n.”  * 

“You  do  not  know  what  the  letter  said?” 


“No,  ther  desarter  didn’t  tell  us,  but  he  opened  it, 
an’  then  told  me  ter  git  my  horse  an’  go  an’  look  up 
ther  cap’n,  an’  tell  him  he  were  wanted  right  away. 
I guesses  it  are  a letter  from  some  o’  ther  spies,  tellin’ 
thet  a train  were  cornin’  thet  we  c’u’d  git  fine  pickin’s 
off  of.” 

“And  so  you  started  in  search  of  the  captain?” 

“Yas;  but  I intended  to  fu’st  find  you,  an’  tell  yer 
thet  yer  c’u’d,  with  a party  o’  picked  sojers,  jist  scoop 
down  on  ther  canon  an’  git  ther  leddy.” 

“I  will  not  forget  you  for  it,  Jim;  but  you  see,  I 
have  come  without  the  soldiers.” 

“Bill,  what  you  three  can’t  do,  thar  are  no  use  fer 
any  ten  men  I knows  of  tryin’  the’r  hands  at  ther 
job.” 

“How  many  men  are  at  the  canon  ?” 

“Ten.” 

“Just  the  number  you  think;  we  can  handle,  and 
we  shall  try  it.” 

“But  I has  more  ter  tell  you.” 

“Well,  out  with  it,  Dead  Knife.” 

“Ther  chief  hev  been  at  ther  canon.” 


■1  f 


262 


Well  Met 


“Indeed ! When  ?”  and  Buffalo  Bill  looked  anxious. 

“He  were  thar,  but  not  for  long,  an’  left  his  nigger  ' 
i — Brickbat,  I calls  him — ter  cook  fer  ther  leddy,  he 
says;  but  it  are  my  idee  he  left  him  ter  watch  her  an* 
us,  too,  includin’  ther  desarter  loot’nent,  fer  ther  cap’n 
don’t  trust  nobody  but  hisself  an’  thet  black  imp.  But 
now  I hes  that  ter  tell  yer  thet  will  make  you  red- 
hot.” 

“I  am  ready  to  hear  it,  Jim,”  was  the  remark,  in  a 
perfectly  calm  voice. 

“Who  does  yer  think  ther  cap’n  are?” 

“The  vilest  wretch  unhanged.” 

“You  has  got  him  down  thar  as  close  as  his  own 
mother  c’u’d;  but  he  are  somebody  else.” 

“Who?” 

“He  wears  a mask,  yer  know?” 

“Yes.” 

“Waal,  I went  up  t’other  day  an’  tuk  a lie-down 
under  a tree  jist  opposite  ther  cap’n’s  teepee,  which 
are  next  to  ther  cabin.  I dropped  off  ter  sleep,  an’  I 
was  woke  up  by  talkin’,  an’  thar  I see  ther  cap’n,  as 
I didn’t  know  were  in  camp,  cornin’  out  o’  ther  cabin. 


Well  Met.1  263 

1 laid  quiet,  fer  ther  thicket  kept  him  from  seein’  me, 
an’  he  went  inter  his  teepee. 

“Ther  nigger  went  down  toward  ther  t’other  teepees, 
ter  keep  ther  men  back,  I guesses,  while  ther  cap’n 
were  doin’  thet  which  broke  me  all  up.  Ther  flap  o’ 
ther  teepee  were  up,  an’  I seen  right  inter  it,  an’  I 
seen  him  jist  as  plain  as  I gazes  on  you  now.  You 
knows  we  hes  never  seen  his  face?’’ 

“So  it  is  said.” 

“None  but  ther  nigger,  Brickbat ; but  he  hes.  Waal, 
I seen  I were  ter  hev  a cirkis  an’  git  a look  at  his  pic- 
tur’.  Fu’st  he  tuk  off  ther  close  he  hed  on  an’  put  oni 
others  thet  were  thar.  Then  he  takes  off  his  hat,  an’ 
next  comes  them  red  wings.  Then  it  were,  Bill,  thet  I 
wanted  ter  git  upon  my  hind  legs  an’  howl  with 
spasms.” 

“What  did  you  see?”  asked  Night  Hawk  eagerly. 

“The  devil,  of  course,”  answered  Broncho  Bill,  while 
Buffalo  Bill  uttered  no  word  and  remained  with  un- 
moved face. 

“Yes,  I saw  the  devil,  Paid  Broncho,  but  not  ther 
one  I ’spected  ter.  Bill,  yer  know  thet  long  yaller 
mustache  ther  cap’n  wears  ?” 


264  Well  Met. 

“Yes.” 

“Yer  know  thet  long,  pretty,  gold-looking  ha’r  ?” 

“Yes.” 

“Waal,  ther  ha’r  come  off  with  ther  mask,  an’  so 
did  ther  mustache.” 

“Ha!  do  you  mean  they  were  false?”  and  the  scout 
sprang  to  his  feet. 

“False  as  his  heart  is,  Pard  Bill. 

“Waal,  I were  took  aback,  fer  I knowed  ther  face  I 
seen  then,  an’  who  does  yer  think  it  were  ?” 

“I  cannot  guess,  Jim.” 

“Pard  Bill,  I seen  him  go  inter  ther  cabin,  an’  thar 
he  stayed  a leetle  time,  and  then  he  corned  out,  went 
to  ther  teepee,  rigged  up  as  the  Hyena  cap’n  ag’in, 
called  ther  nigger  an’  give  him  some  talk  what  ter  do, 
an’  then  cleared  out  o’  camp.” 

“But  who  was  he,  Dick?”  again  asked  the  scout, 
now  anxious  to  learn  who  the  mysterious  chief  was. 

“It  were  thet  young  ranchero,  old  Major  Monkton’s 
nephew !” 

Buffalo  Bill  was  upon  his  feet  with  a bound,  while 
Night  Hawk  and  Broncho  Bill  stood  ga-zing  upon 


W- 


Well  Met.  265 

Dead  Knife  Jim  with  a look  of  horror  stamped  upon 
every  feature. 

“Fact,”  an’  I swear  it,”  said  the  outlaw,  when  he 
saw  the  excitement  his  words  had  caused  in  the  three 
men,  usually  unmoved  under  any  and  all  circum- 
stances. 


l 


A. 


CHAPTER  XXL 


AGAINST  DESPERATE  ODDS. 

‘"Can  this  be  possible?”  said  Buffalo  Bill,  regaining1 
his  customary  calmness  and  turning  once  more  to 
Dead  Knife  Jim. 

“I’d  not  hev  thought  so,  onless  I hed  seen  it  with  my 
own  squinters.  Yer  see,  none  o’  us  hev  got  a look  at 
ther  cap’n’s  face,  an’  we  didn’t  know  jest  what  he 
looked  like,  tho’  he  did  act  like  ther  devil.  O’  late 
he  hes  been  a great  deal  away  from  the  command,  and 
his  being  thet  young  cattle  feller  accounts  fer  thet 
now. 

“We  know’d  our  boys  was  actin’  as  cowboys  fer 
ther  young  feller,  but  then,  we  considered  ther  cap’n 
hed  a big  thing  on  hand  when  he  sent  ’em  ter  hire  out 
thar,  an’  they  didn’t  think  thet  thar  boss  were  none 
other  than  Cap’n  Kit,  you  bet.  Oh,  he  hev  worked 
things  well,  he  hev,  an’  thet  pretty  leddy  hev  been 
what  he  were  playin’  his  trump  keerds  fer  all  ther 
time.” 


Against  Desperate  Odds.  267 

“And  now  she  is  in  his  power;  but  can  he  really 
be  the  nephew  of  the  old  major?”  said  Night  Hawk. 

“There  is  no  doubt  of  that,  for  the  major  and  serv- 
ants recognized  him  as  such ; but  they  all  said  he  prom- 
ised to  be  a wild  one,  and  he  has  gone  to  the  bad.  Liv- 
ing with  Mr.  Joslyn  as  he  did,  he  knew  Janette  well, 
in  fact  was  as  a brother  to  her,  and  he  followed  the 
whereabouts  of  her  father  and  herself,  and  when  she 
went  to  live  at  Monkton  Ranch,  he  settled  down  ap- 
parently on  a ranch,  with  some  fell  purpose  regarding 
her,  I am  convinced.” 

“Does  yer  think  she  c’u’d  hev  tumbled  to  his  bein’ 
what  he  are?”  asked  Dead  Knife  Jim,  and  the  question 
made  Buffalo  Bill  start. 

But  Will  said  quickly : 

“Of  course  not,  or  why  would  he  have  visited  her 
first  as  Captain  Hyena,  and  then,  going  to  his  teepee, 
change  to  Paul  Monkton,  and  again  visit  her?” 

“You  are  right,  Will;  he  is  playing  a double  game 
with  her,  as  with  all  of  us;  but,  Jim,  are  you  sure  he 
could  not  have  had  the  young  ranchero  a prisoner,  and 
thus ” 

“No,  Bill,  fer  I seen  him  change  his  clothes  an’ 


268  Against  Desperate  Odds. 

take  off  thet  mask  an’  put  it  on  ag’in.  His  hair  are 
black,  as  yer  knows,  but  Cap’n  Kit’s  are  yaller,  an’  so 
are  ther  mustache  he  wears.  No,  sir,  I seen  what  I 
seen,  an’  I hes  eyes  like  a chipmunk  fer  seein’,  you 
bet.” 

“Well,  knowing  what  I do  now,  I can  act  intelli- 
gently. Now  let  us  decide  what  is  best  to  be  done, 
boys,”  said  Buffalo  Bill. 

“Rescue  Janette  at  once,”  said  Will. 

“Yes,  we  must  get  her  out  of  the  canon,  and  then 
we  can  look  up  Captain  Kit,”  added  Night  Hawk. 

“How  is  you  ter  rescoo  ther  gal  ?”  asked  Jim. 

“We  can  lower  ourselves  into  the  canon  by  lariats, 
which  I have  made  into  a kind  of  ladder,  and  bring 
her  up  that  way  and  get  her  to  the  fort  in  safety. 
Then  we  can  look  up  the  Red  Angels,”  said  Broncho 
Bill. 

“Ther  nigger  sleeps  in  ther  teepee  near  ther  cabin, 
an’  ef  yer  wakes  him,  yer  rouses  a roarin’  lion.” 

“All  right,  we’ll  clip  the  lion’s  claws,  then.” 

“Thet  will  rouse  ther  menagerie  farther  down  ther 


cation.” 


Against  Desperate  Odds,  269 

“We’ll  have  to  tame  them,  then,”  answered  Broncho 
Bill. 

“Waal,  ef  it  can  be  did,  you  kin  do  it,  an’  I only 
wishes  I c’u’d  j’ine  yer;  but  I ain’t  no  traiter,  ter  tarn 
agin’  my  pards,  so  yer  kin  work  ther  best  way  yer  kin, 
gents,  while  I are  glad  I are  out  o’  ther  rackit.” 

“And  where  do  you  go,  Dead  Knife?”  asked  the 
scout. 

“I  goes  ter  look  up  ther  cap’n,  an’  then  stan’  ready 
ter  keep  out  o’  ther  way  of  ther  man  with  ther  rope.” 

“The  hangman?” 

» 

“Yas,  he  are  interestin’  me  jist  now,  fer  I believes* 
ther  Red  Angels  is  goin’  ter  git  wiped  out,  an’  then  I 
hes  ter  look  around  fer  some  other  biz  thet  will  pay  me 
a livin’.” 

“Come  to  me,  Jim,  when  you  need  a job,  and  I will 
give  you  one.” 

“Thankee,  Bill,  I’ll  consider  it;  but  ef  I makes  a 
diskivery  o’  any  importance,  I’ll  look  you  up,  an’  don’t 
yer  go  an’  fergit  it.  Now  I’d  like  ter  be  perlite 
enough  ter  be  at  home,  seein’  as  you  gents  intend 
callin’  on  my  camp;  but  jist  now  I finds  it  convenient 
ter  be  away;  but  I hopes  yer’ll  excoose  me.  Now 


270  Against  Desperate  Odds. 

good-by,  pards,  an’  I wishes  yer  luck  in  gittin’  ther 
leddy  out  o’  ther  lion’s  den.” 

With  this,  Dead  Knife  Jim  mounted  his  horse  and 
rode  off,  while  the  trio,  leading  their  animals,  pene- 
trated farther  into  the  hills,  Broncho  Bill  acting  as 
guide  to  the  spot  where  they  could  command  a view  of 
the  canon. 

With  darkness  about  them,  it  was  slow  work  to 
make  their  way  through  the  hill-lands.  But  after  an 
hour’s  climb  through  the  timber,  they  reached  a spot 
where  the  horses  could  be  left  in  safety,  and  at  the 
same  time  improve  their  rest  by  feeding  on  the  grass 
that  grew  luxuriantly  upon  all  sides. 

To  rest  their  horses  thoroughly,  so  that  they  would 
be  ready  for  flight  if  it  came  to  it,  the  trio  unsaddled 
and  unbridled  them,  staking  them  out  with  lariats. 

Then  taking  the  extra  lariats,  which  Broncho  Bill 
had  made  into  a rope-ladder,  they  walked  on  toward 
the  summit  of  the  hill  into  which  the  canon  penetrated. 

Broncho  Bill  led  the  way  unerringly,  although  he 
had  only  been  once  there  before,  and  the  timber  made 
the  darkness  dense. 

“Do  you  see  that  glimmer  of  light  yonder?”  he 


Against  Desperate  Odds.  271 

asked,  as  a reflection  was  cast  against  the  tree-tops. 
“That  comes  from  the  fires  in  the  canon.”  Ten  min- 
utes after  they  were  on  the  edge  of  the  cliff  over- 
hanging the  ravine  below.  Peering  over,  they  saw  a 
smoldering  fire  in  front  of  the  teepee  near  the  cabin, 
while  down  the  canon  were  several  other  fires  burning 
brightly,  just  beyond  the  row  of  teepees  which  blocked 
up  the  way. 

Around  these  fires  sat  five  men,  all  of  them  smoking 
their  pipes  and  having  evidently  just  finished  their 
supper. 

“The  Brickbat,  as  Dead  Knife  Jim  calls  him,  has  re- 
tired early,  for  his  fire  is  dying  out  and  he  is  no- 
where to  be  seen,”  said  Broncho  Bill. 

“There  is  no  light  in  the  cabin,  either,”  remarked 
Buffalo  Bill. 

“She  has  doubtless  sought  rest,  and  I wish  yonder 
men  would  follow  her  example,”  said  Night  Hawk. 

“There  are  only  five  there.” 

"True,  Will,  but  there  are  doubtless  more  in  the 
teepees,  besides  a guard  which  must  be  kept  at  the 
entrance  to  the  canon.  But  is  not  that  a rope  hanging 


tf2  Against  Desperate  Odds. 

down  from  that  tree  on  the  other  side?”  and  Buffalo 
Bill  pointed  to  what  had  caught  his  eye. 

“Yes,  it  is  a rope,”  remarked  Night  Hawk,  while 
IWill  Powell  said: 

“It  will  come  in  useful  for  their  necks;  but  what 
do  you  make  her  out?” 

“It  is  a rope  extending  over  the  limb  of  that  tree, 
and  at  the  lower  end  is  a pile  that  looks  like  a rope- 
ladder.” 

“Ah  1 a means  of  escape  out  of  the  canon  if  driven 
to  it.  I tell  you  that  Captain  Hyena  is  a tassel-top, 
and  guards  against  surprises.” 

“You  are  right,  Will;  but  as  soon  as  those  five 
men  turn  in,  we  will  see  if  he  can  guard  against  the 
surprise  that  we  will  give  his  camp,”  and  Buffalo 
Bill  began  to  uncoil  the  lariat-ladder  and  make  the  end 
fast  to  a tree  growing  near  the  edge  of  the  cliff. 

One  by  one,  a*s  they  finished  their  pipes,  the  five  out- 
laws dropped  out  of  the  circle  and  retired  to  the  teepees 
to  sleep,  while  a sixth  man  came  up  the  canon  from 
its  entrance,  and  also  disappeared  from  view. 

“Six,  anyhow,  the  negro  seven,  and  without  doubt 


Against  Desperate  Odds.  275 

number  eight  is  on  guard  down  the  canon,  while  there 
must  be  another  around  somewhere. 

“That  gives  us  only  three  apiece  to  get  away  wifli, 
and  if  we  are  surprised,  our  first  shots  will  reduce 
them  to  six. 

“Oh,  I don’t  see  any  trouble  in  the  work  we  have 
to  do,”  said  Broncho  Bill,  rather  enjoying  the  prospect 
of  the  fight  against  odds. 

“Remember,  Will,  we  wish  to  rescue  Janette  with- 
out waking  a man,  if  possible.  If  we  do  alarm  the  " 
camp,  you  take  Janette  and  go  up  the  ladder,  and 
George  will  follow  you.” 

“And  what  will  Buffalo  Bill  do?”  asked  Wifi. 

“I’ll  keep  the  devils  back  until  you  get  a good  start 
with  Janette.” 

“Now,  Bill,  you  pire  always  good  at  planning,  but 
you  have  slipped  up  on  this  arrangement,  has  he  not, 
George  ?” 

“It  has  that  look,  Will.” 

“But  I cannot  see  how,  boys,  for ” 

“Then  let  me  open  your  eyes.  You  say  that  I am 
to  retreat  with  Janette,  and  George  is  to  follow.  Now, 

I say,  if  we  alarm  the  camp,  just  lock  Janette  in  the 


274  Against  Desperate  Odds. 

cabin,  and  we  stand  outside  and  pick  off  the  devils 
as  they  crowd  us.  Then  we  can  make  a retreat  in 
style.  Do  you  see?” 

“Yes,  I see  that  you  boys  won’t  desert  me,  and  that 
it  is  live  or  die  together,”  answered  the  scout,  with 
feeling. 

“That  is  just  it,”  said  Night  Hawk. 

“All  right,  boys,  have  it  as  you  will;  but  we  must 
get  away  without  alarming  the  outlaws  if  we  can,  and, 
if  not,  we  must  fight  it  out  right  there  in  the  canon. 
See,  no  one  is  visible  now,  so  let  us  begin  work.” 

“By  the  way,  have  you  any  chloroform,  Bill  ?” 

“Yes,  I will  get  it  for  you,”  and  stepping  back  to 
where  he  had  placed  his  coat,  the  scout  took  out  a 
vial  of  chloroform,  and  handed  it  to  Will,  who  re- 
marked : 

“I’ll  just  give  Brickbat  a smell  of  this,  to  quiet  him 
for  half  an  hour.” 

Then  the  end  of  the  ladder  was  lowered  over  the 
cliff  and  gently  and  noiselessly  let  down  into  the 
canon. 

Swinging  himself  over  as  fearlessly  as  a sailor 
might  have  done,  his  pistols  in  his  belt,  his  repeating- 


Against  Desperate  Odds.  275 

rifle  slung  at  his  back,  Broncho  Bill  went  down  the 
ladder  as  nimbly  as  a cat,  and  glided  to  the  open  flaps 
of  the  teepee,  while  the  others  quickly  followed  him. 

Within  all  was  silent,  and  after  an  instant’s  hesita- 
tion, the  young  ranchero  boldly  and  coolly  entered.  A 
moment  he  remained  within,  and  then  came  out,  just 
as  Night  Hawk  and  the  scout  reached  the  teepee. 

“He  is  not  at  home.” 

“Who,  the  negro  ?” 

“Yes,  the  Brickbat.” 

“It  cannot  be  possible  that  Captain  Hyena  makes 
him  stand  guard  in  the  cabin  over  Janette?” 

“We  can  soon  see.” 

Together  they  swiftly  glided  to  the  door  of  the 
cabin.  It  was  locked,  but,  whether  from  within  or 
without,  they  could  not  tell. 

“Knock,  Will,”  said  the  scout,  and  Broncho  Bill 
obeyed. 

No  answer  came. 

“Knock  again,  for  we  must  get  in.” 

Again  the  knock  was  unanswered,  and  a third  time 
it  was  repeated.  Just  then  a voice  called  out  from 
down  the  canon: 


2/6 


Against  Desperate  Odds. 

“Who  in  thunder  is  that  knockin’  thar?  Don’t  yer 
know  ther  cap’n  left  at  sunset  with  ther  gal  ?” 

A cry  of  mingled  rage  and  disappointment  broke 
from  the  lips  of  the  scout ; but  it  was  quickly  checked 
by  Night  Hawk,  who  put  his  hand  upon  his  mouth, 
while  he  answered  in  the  dialect  of  the  border : 

“I  thoughted  the  nigger  were  here,  pard.” 

“No,  ther  nigger  is  gone  with  ’em;  but  who  is 
you?” 

As  he  spoke,  the  man  advanced  from  the  lower 
teepees,  when  suddenly,  in  a voice  that  rung  like  a 
trumpet,  and  sent  a hundred  ©choes  through  the 
canon : 

“Up  with  your  hands,  sir,  or  die!” 

A yell  burst  from  the  man’s  lips,  but  whether  in 
warning  to  his  comrades,  or  in  fright,  no  one  knew, 
while  he  turned  to  run;  but  a shot  from  the  scout’s 
pistol  sent  him  headlong  to  the  earth. 

“Come,  boys,  let  us  take  the  offensive,”  cried  Buffalo 
Bill,  as  he  bounded  down  toward  the  teepees,  from 
which  the  men  were  emerging  in  alarm,  and  with 
their  weapons  ready  for  use. 

Then  the  music  of  the  revolvers  began  in  dead! 


» 


Against  Desperate  Odds.  277 

earnest.  The  outlaws,  half-dazed  and  not  knowing 
what  their  foes  numbered,  fired  at  random  and  then 
1 turned  in  flight. 

Dropping  upon  his  knees  from  a bullet-wound  in  his 
leg,  Broncho  Bill  did  not  for  an  instant  cease  his  work, 
while  Night  Hawk,  with  his  right  arm  hanging  limp 
by  his  side,  kept  his  revolver  playing  with  his  left. 

As  for  Buffalo  Bill,  the  most  conspicuous,  from 
his  size,  he  remained  unhurt,  and  darted  in  chase  of 
the  fleeing  bandits,  followed  by  Night  Hawk. 

Through  the  teepees  they  went,  and  a prisoner  was 
captured  by  the  scout,  who  ran  like  a deer  and  caught 
him  by  the  shoulder,  striking  up  the  revolver  turned 
upon  him. 

“I  want  you,  villain,”  he  said  hoarsely. 

“Shoot  me,  then,  now  you  has  got  me,”  was  the 
sullen  reply. 

“No,  I’ll  keep  you  for  the  hangman;  but  tell  me, 
where  is  your  chief?” 

“Out  of  the  scrape,  as  usual. 

“His  father,  the  devil,  takes  care  o’  him.” 

“And  his  captive?” 


278 


Against  Desperate  OddSc 


“The  girl  ?” 

“Yes.” 

“He  took  her  with  him.” 

“When  ?” 

“They  left  at  dark.” 

“Where  are  they  going?” 

“I  don’t  know.” 

“Who  else  went  with  them?” 

“The  Black  Bravo.” 

“The  negro,  you  mean  ?” 

“Yes.” 

“Any  one  else?” 

“Yes,  two  of  the  boys.” 

“Why  did  he  go?” 

“Dunno;  he  came  here  to-night,  when  we  wasn’t 
expectin’  him,  an’  lit  out  with  ther  gal ; but  he  said  he 
would  be  back  in  a few  days,  an’  fer  us  tc  remain 
here.” 

“How  many  were  there  here?” 

“Ten.” 

Buffalo  Bill  glanced  up  the  canon,  and,  his  eyes 
falling  upon  four  dead  bodies,  and  then  his  prisoner, 
he  said : 


279 


Against  Desperate  Odds. 

“Five  have  escaped.” 

“It  looks  that  way;  but  I’m  thinkin’  some  o’  ’em 
are  wounded,  fer  when  you  three  pards  come  down 
the  canon  rattling  your  revolvers,  I’m  durned  ef  I 
didn’t  think  you  was  a buzz-saw  on  fire.  But  what  are 
you  going  to  do  with  me  ?” 

“That  they  will  decide  at  the  fort.  Now  I’ll  see 
that  you  will  be  certain  to  get  there,”  and  Buffalo  Bill 
securely  bound  his  prisoner,  and  hastened  back  with 
him  to  the  brothers,  who  were  sitting  by  the  fire  near 
the  cabin,  examining  the  nature  of  the  wounds  they 
had  received. 

Just  as  he  reached  them,  firing  was  heard  far  down 
the  canon,  and  the  outlaw  said : 

“The  men  you  left  at  our  pony-corral  are  headin’  off 
our  boys  from  a ride.  I guess  you’ve  done  for  the 
band  o’  Red  Angels,  pard.” 

“You  don’t  mean  that  all  the  band  was  encamped 
here?” 

“Nigh  about,  for  there  was  ten  here,  the  cap’n  has 
two  an’  the  nigger  with  him;  Dead  Knife  Jim  is  off 
on  courier  work,  an’  the  Deserter  Lieutenant,  as  we 
calls  the  soldier  who  joined  us,  has, f wfwnen  off  on  ^ 


f 


380  Against  Desperate  Odds. 

a raid  with  him,  and  there  might  be  a straggler  or  two 
more;  but  I guess  you’ve  broke  the  backbone  of  the 
Red  Angels  of  the  Overland.” 

“Not  until  I have  killed  your  chief,”  savagely  said 
the  scout. 

“You’ll  find  him  hard  to  kill,  Pard  Bill.” 

“He’ll  die  hard,  no  doubt;  but  I have  that  duty  to 
perform,  and  I shall  not  neglect  it.  Now,  Will,  I 
must  look  at  the  wounds  you  and  George  have  re- 
ceived, and  which  I trust  are  not  serious.” 

“Mine  does  not  worry  me  as  much  as  to  knowi 
what  that  firing  meant  down  the  canon,”  said  Broncho 
Bill. 

“Perhaps  the  captain  is  coming  back,”  suggested 
the  outlaw  prisoner. 

“Such  may  be  the  case,  Bill,  so  you  be  on  the  look- 
out, for  I can  look  after  Will’s  wound,  and  he  after 
mine,  as  neither  of  them  are  serious,”  Night  Hawk 
remarked. 

“Yes,  you  take  a little  look  down  the  canon,  and 
if  you  need  us,  howl,  and  PH  come  if  I have  to  ride 
this  Red  Angel,  and  you  bet  he’ll  fly  with  me  if  I 
dig  my  spurs  into  him.  Come,  my  man,  sit  right 


Against  Desperate  Odds.  281 

there  where  I can  mount  you,  if  I need  you  for  a 
horse,  for  I cannot  walk  with  this  game  leg  some  of 
your  fellows  gave  me,”  and  Broncho  Bill  pointed  with 
his  pistol  to  a seat  near  him,  and  the  outlaw  took  the 
hint  and  sat  down,  while  Buffalo  Bill  walked  rapidly 
down  the  canon  to  reconnoiter. 


^ Vj'.U-ii 
n'  ;f1'A  5 


: ti 

f ; 1 

> •<>*  s 

r <> 


• i 


; ’ 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


AN  OUTLAW  ALLY. 

As  Buffalo  Bill  went  on  his  way  down  the  canon, 
he  made  up  his  mind,  come  what  might,  he  intended 
to  strike  the  trail  of  Captain  Kit  in  the  morning  and 
follow  it  to  the  end. 

With  the  step  of  an  Indian,  he  went  down  the  canon, 
halting  at  every  sound,  and  seeking  the  deep  shadows, 
until  he  had  nearly  reached  the  end. 

Then  he  heard  a rush  of  hoofs  coming  toward  him. 
To  retreat  to  the  cabin  would  be  impossible,  in  time  to 
aid  the  brothers  up  to  the  top  of  the  cliff,  and  he 
would  not  have  them  taken  by  surprise. 

Plis  shots  at  a foe  would  put  them  on  their  guard, 
and  make  them  seek  shelter  in  the  cabin,  and  he  would 
retreat  slowly,  for  the  hoofs  told  him  there  was  a 
large  force  coming. 

Seeking  shelter  behind  a wash  on  one  side  of  the 
canon,  he  threw  his  repeating-rifle  on  the  bank,  ready 
for  use,  and  waited. 


An  Outlaw  Ally.  283 

'A  moment  of  waiting,  and  he  raised  his  rifle.  Then 
into  sight  dashed  a galloping  mass. 

A less  cool  man  might  have  fired  upon  them;  but 
the  scout  coolly  looked  them  over,  and  said : 

“These  horses  have  not  a rider  upon  them.  They 
are  from  the  outlaws’  corral.” 

Then  the  drove  dashed  by  up  the  canon,  and  the 
scout  waited.  He  knew  that  they  had  a driver,  or 
drivers.  Nor  was  he  mistaken.  A moment  more  and 
a horseman  came  in  sight.  Still  the  scout  did  not  fire, 
and  the  man  drew  rein  within  ten  paces  of  him. 

“Ho,  Jim!” 

Quick  as  a flash,  a revolver  was  thrust  forward  by 
the  horseman,  and  he  cried : 

“Who  is  yer  thet  calls  Jim?  Speak,  or  I fires,  an’ 
I kin  hit  yer  from  ther  sound  o’  yer  voice,  fer  I hes  kilt 
wolves  from  the’r  yelp.” 

“But  I am  not  a wolf,  Jim.” 

“Pard  Bill,  it  are  you,  ef  it  ain’t,  scalp  me!”  cried 
Dead  Knife  Jim,  as  the  scout  stepped  out  before  him. 

“Yes,  Jim,  and  what  are  you  doing  here,  when  we 
left  you  on  the  other  side  of  the  hills.” 

“Yer  see,  I c’u’dn’t  resist  ther  temptation  ter  see 


284  An  Outlaw  Ally. 

yer  sail  in  on  ther  boys,  so  I rid  round,  lickerty  split, 
and  were  jist  at  ther  mouth  o'  ther  canon  here,  when 
I heerd  ther  powder-music  up  yonder,  and  next  came 
ther  rattle  o’  ther  boys’  feet,  as  though  ther  devil 
were  arter  them.  Waal,  says  I,  ef  they  is  heelin’  it  in 
thet  style,  they’ll  make  fer  ther  corral  ter  git  the’r 
hosses,  an’  as  them  pards  hes  got  away  with  them 
many  pilgrims,  they  desarves  ther  hosses. 

“So  off  I rides  to  ther  corral,  an’  when  I heerd 
ther  pilgrims  acomin’,  pantin’  like  hounds,  I jist  shouts 
out : 

“ ‘Thar  they  is,  boys ! Fire  low,  an’  let  ’em  have  it !’ 

“Pard  Bill,  I then  rattled  my  six,  an’  yer  should 
have  seen  them  sinful  robbers  tarn  tail  an’  git  down 
ther  valley.  I declar’  I don’t  think  we  hed  a hoss  in 
ther  layout  that  c’u’d  keep  ’em  company  in  thet  race. 
Waal,  while  I were  laffin’,  they  was  runnin’,  an’  I 
guesses  they  is  about  twenty-three  miles  from  here 
now,  ef  they  keeped  on. 

“Then  I jist  druv  ther  hosses  out  o’  ther  corral, 
headed  ’em  up  ther  canon,  an’  was  goin’  ter  leave  ’em 
fer  yer  ter  take  catre  of,  an’  hunt  another  kentry  for 
myself,  when  you  sings  out  to  me.  But  hes  yer  got 


An  Outlaw  Ally.  285 

ther  leetle  leddy  back  ag’in,  how  many  of  ’em  did  yer 
slew,  an’  was  arry  o’  yer  pards  hurted?” 

“Jim,  both  of  my  pards  were  wounded,  but  not  seri- 
ously, and  the  captain  left  at  sunset,  with  two  men, 
the  negro,  and  Miss  Joslyn.” 

On  learning  of  Buffalo  Bill’s  predicament  Jim  read- 
ily agreed  to  follow  up  the  trail  of  the  Hyena,  and 
leave  word  in  some  way  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  Miss 
Joslyn.  Meanwhile  Buffalo  Bill  returned  to  his 
wounded  comrades,  Broncho  Bill  and  George  Powell, 
and  gave  their  wounds  a first-aid  dressing. 

It  was  nearly  dawn  when  the  party  rode  out  of  the 
Canon,  with  the  outlaws’  booty  packed  upon  the  cap- 
tured horses,  which  formed  quite  a drove  of  excellent 
animals,  and,  as  Broncho  Bill  remarked : 

“We’re  enough  to  mount  a cavalry  company.’’ 

“Yes,  and  they  are  just  what  the  quartermaster  is 
' in  need  of,”  rejoined  Night  Hawk. 

Without  accident,  but  after  a long  and  hard,  hard 
ride  for  the  two  wounded  men,  the  trio  arrived  at  the 
fort,  and  the  scout  made  his  report  to  Major  Benteen. 

With  the  dawn  of  the  following  day,  Buffalo  Bill 
was  on  his  way  once  more,  following  the  trail  of  the 


286 


An  Outlaw  Ally. 

Overland  robber  and  his  victim  from  the  starting- 
point  at  the  canon. 

He  had  not  gone  far  when  he  came  upon  signs  which 
Dead  Knife  Jim  had  left  for  him,  and  from  that  time 
on  the  traces  left  by  his  outlaw  ally  were  frequently 

seen. 

In  places  where  the  trail  of  the  Red  Angels  was  en- 
tirely obliterated,  owing  to  the  time  that  had  elapsed 
since  it  was  made,  the  signs  of  Dead  Knife  Jim  were 
plain,  for  he  had  followed  close  on  the  heels  of  the 
outlaw,  and  the  scout  congratulated  himself  again  and 
again  upon  his  fortune  in  having  such  a good  ally. 

Away  from  the  rolling  prairie-lands,  over  streams 
and  hills-,  through  valleys,  straight  to  the  mountain 
country  of  Colorado  the  trail  led,  and  untiringly  the 
scout  hung  to  it,  until  at  last  he  came  to  “signs”  that 
riveted  his  attention. 

These  signs  were  read  by  him  aloud,  as  follows : 

“Dead  Knife  Jim  here  overtook  that  Hyena  cap- 
tain. Now  I will  see  if  he  still  leaves  a marked  trail 
for  me.  If  he  does,  before  very  long  Captain  Hyena, 
Captain  Kit,  Paul  Monkton,  or  whatever  name  or  alias 
you  go  under,  we  will  meet  face  to  face !” 

* * * * * * * 

Two  men  stood  together  in  a wild  but  picturesque 
valley  in  Colorado.  At  their  feet  lay  three  prostrate 


An  Outlaw  Ally  287 

forms,  one  of  them  wearing  a mask  that  concealed  his 
face,  but  it  had  been  partially  torn  aside,  as  though  by 
a rude  hand. 

Those  lying  upon  the  ground  were  dead,  apparently, 
for  they  were  motionless,  and  bullet-wounds  were  in 
the  forehead  of  two,  and  of  the  third  the  clothing 
yvas  stained  by  a flow  of  life-blood  from  his  side. 

The  face  of  the  latter  was  a strangely  handsome  one 
but  it  had  long  been  hidden  under  the  mask  of  crimson 
wings  that  concealed  the  identity  of  Captain  Kit,  the 
Red  Angel  of  the  Overland,  though  it  was  frequently 
seen  in  the  person  of  Paul  Monkton,  the  young 
ranchero. 

One  of  the  two  men  standing  upright  above  the  slain 
was  none  other  than  Dead  Knife  Jim,  his  one  hand 
holding  the  bridle-rein  of  two  horses,  one  his  own, 
the  other  belonging  to  Buffalo  Bill. 

Presently  Dead  Knife  Jim  speaks: 

“Pard  Bill,  yer  trail  is  ended.” 

“Yes;  there  lies  the  bitterest  foe  of  my  life.” 

“And  he  died  without  telling  you'  where  to  find  the 
leddy,  you  say,  fer  I hung  back,  as  you  told  me,  pard, 
ter  let  yer  face  ther  three  of  ’em,  so  didn’t  hear  what 
he  said.” 

“Yes,  Jim,  I believe  that  she  is  dead,  or,  at  any 


288 


An  Outlaw  Ally. 

rate,  I must  so  believe  from  his  words;  so  let  the  dead 
past  bury  its  dead,”  was  the  low,  sad  response. 

They  buried  the  outlaws  and  then  Jim  took  his 
leave  of  Buffalo  Bill,  who  promised  to  obtain  an  official 
pardon  for  the  reformed  bandit’s  past  crimes. 

The  two  men  parted,  Dead  Knife  Jim  to  go  to  the 
Colorado  mines,  and  Buffalo  Bill  to  retrace  his  way 
to  the  fort. 

While  he  had  been  absent,  changes  had  come  upon 
the  dwellers  at  the  fort,  for  the  gallant  major  had 
been  promoted  to  lieutenant-colonel.  Night  Hawk 
had  settled  down  upon  the  ranch  where  Paul  Monkton 
had  once  lived,  and  turned  ranchero;  Broncho  Bill  had 
bought  Major  Monkton’s  place,  for  the  old  man,  learn- 
ing about  his  nephew,  had  sold  out  his  interests  on  the 
border,  and,  with  his  faithful  negroes,  had  returned 
to  the  South,  to  die  and  be  laid  by  the  side  of  his 
forefathers. 

And  Janette  Joslyn’s  fate  was  never  known. 

THE  END. 

No.  43  of  the  Buffalo  Bill  Border  Stories  will 
present  another  thrilling  series  of  the  famous  scout’s 
adventures  under  the  title,  "Buffalo  Bill’s  Bodyguard.” 


— • 

Adventure  Stories 
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Love  Stories 
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